For There Is Nothing Lost
by Ophelia'song
Summary: A year after their torched wedding, Dick Grayson finds himself staring down the barrel of their fracturing union. With Kory still stricken will ailing health and depression, the hero finds himself isolated and alone. With no team and no mission, and Raven's unanswered return, Nightwing must find his way back from the end.
1. Last Kiss

**_A/N: Hey guys! So before we start, I'd first like to say, thank you for taking an interest in this story and I hope you enjoy taking this journey with us :D. I'd also like to take this time to clarify a few things. To start, I'm working with a Co Author:_** ** _olicityaddict, or as I like to call him, MY Friend Peter. Second: This story will for the most part follow past canon, however, the current story line is a bit of a fix-it fic of sorts as my friend Peter who enjoys the Dick and Kori pairing feels their ending/relationship has suffered in the hands of comic writers of the last 20 or so years. So in an attempt to right this, we'll be putting our own spin on their break-up and following story arcs. This will include certain events such as their wedding, their separation and eventual meetings. I would also like to add that I'm a bit new to this side of the fandom as I don't typically write this pairing, so I hope I do it some justice :)_**

 ** _The Other thing I'd like to address is Raven's age, as you are probably all aware, DC likes to Kill Raven and reincarnate her into younger bodies so the poor thing is forever a teenager (oh the humanity). However here she will be an adult because there's enough angsty teen Raven out there to go around. And since this is a fix-it fic, I'm going to explore my original ship: Wally/Raven, because that is the trade Peter and I made lol: I'll do my best to write a (hopefully) awesome Nightwing/Starfire story, but I get a ship of my choice! Thanks Pete!_**

 ** _Anyway if you have any questions or comments, both good and bad, please feel free leave them below, let me know how I'm doing with this pairing and I hope you enjoy the ride._**

 ** _-With Love Ophelia_**

 **Chapter 1**

 **Last Kiss**

 _"She said, "You make your own decisions."_

 _I said, "My motion is not my own."_

 _She looked away and she never looked back."_

 _—Minus the Bear_

The world had nearly fallen from the sky, a simple thread holding it there, but it seemed its fragile strings were breaking. Only he refused to cut them.

It had been a year since their wedding; the beginning of their life together. Only that wasn't the ending they were given. What was supposed to be a beautiful moment that sparked a beginning, decayed into a nightmare that both had yet to recover from.

Raven's return ignited an odd chain of events: The Titans disbanded, each one seemingly moving on with their lives. Gar had moved to LA in a successful attempt to revive his once dead acting career. Victor followed, becoming a tech guru at a top company in Silicon Valley. Roy continued his work with the government and had become increasingly hard to reach. Donna was sort of there, though her primary focus was on her divorce. Wally tried, but his responsibilities as the current _Flash_ kept him more than busy. Then there was Raven, the one who had brought them all together, the whole reason they became Titans. But that was before, before she'd given into her darker nature, truly becoming the daughter of _Trigon_. She destroyed her team, both mentally and physically. It was only in that final battle that her spirit was liberated from her father's influence. And with that liberation, she vanished into the ether, free to roam the planes and the cosmos as a sovereign entity with no ties to this world or the next. Finally at peace.

Yet still, somehow, she returned, with no rhyme or reason she could site for her new being. Some were apprehensive at first, but for the most part, everyone just sort of accepted it and moved on once more. It didn't matter where'd she'd been, she was back, and somehow, that seemed to be enough, but not for Richard Grayson.

He was certain that he wanted nothing to do with her. She'd left her mark on the woman he loved, in more ways than one. And deeper still, she'd left her mark on him… and in the waking darkness his life had become, he couldn't bring himself to forgive her. Not now—not after what she'd done.

He bit back his thoughts and peered over at the redhead, her green eyes listlessly gazing out the window, their wonder and beauty something of a memory. Life was something that escaped her now. Her manner paused, no longer awe struck by the simple pleasures of the mortal coil. There was something morbid about her now as she reminded him of a _John Everett Millais_ painting: Her fair features sleeping, lost beneath the pregnant weeds of the steeping brook. Her vibrant nature'd grown ghostly, like a lost voice screaming on deaf ears as if salvation was simply a breath away.

It was as if he were witnessing a slow death, her fire dwindling as it burnt out. Her massive red hair fell in a tangled mess as she carelessly twirled the strands in her fingers. The radiance of her skin grew dull and imperfect, while the lush green of her eyes had grown infertile as joy no longer imbued them.

He stared at the alien as if he didn't even know her anymore, yet he still wasn't ready to let go. So he held onto those threads, fraying at his fingertips, hoping, that maybe one day, she'd _come home._

"Richard, is everything alright?" she asked, pulling him from his worrisome thoughts.

"Everything is fine," he replied, "I was just thinking."

Her gaze withered from him a moment, a slight falter that had grown into a formality between them.

"Oh," she asked with a mournful connotation, knowing full well no answers would come her way—their new normal.

His breath hitched, feeling the wound in her chest split, something common of her now. "I gotta run some errands," he lied, he didn't have the heart to tell her that he missed her, that he felt as if he were speaking to a ghost. None of it was her fault, after all.

She nodded, though she knew his words were little more than empty charity, he loved her too much to tell her otherwise, though it hurt all the same.

"Do you need anything?" he asked gathering his coat, getting ready to head out, "I was thinking I could get you that candy you like?"

A rare smile played on her face, though still sad in nature, as if the gesture reminded her of a time when they were _happy._

"That would be nice," she sighed as he approached her and looked down. She felt he'd been doing that a lot lately.

He placed his hand on the back of her head, taking hold of the once fiery hair, it's curl somewhat wilted, the color muted. He let his fingers travel down to her jaw, where they lifted her chin and stared down into the once illustrious jade.

"I love you," he whispered.

"I know," and that was what made it so painful.

He kissed her forehead, Kory shuttering at how far their relationship had shifted, they were no longer lovers, but simply child and caregiver. They'd not touched each other in months, not since their wedding. It was like the passion, the lust and the connection had all been severed, leaving them only with the bones of obligation and tethered to their failed marriage. She could hardly bare the way he looked at her now. That look of longing: No more, in its place, only pity and fear. There was little she could say, for no words could save them now, not from the world, not from time, and certainly not from themselves.

She watched as he turned and headed for the door, pulling on his coat as he went, but he paused. His eyes fell on her once more, his gaze wandering as if searching for the right words.

"Kory," he huffed taking pause, his eyes falling to the floor in recoil. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said—"

"I know..." she replied cutting him off, "...but I still think—"

"Kory, no."

"But Dick," she pleaded, cutting him off, "Raven might kno—"

"I said _NO_ , Kory!" he snapped, out of character.

She fell silent, he'd hardly ever yelled at her, but lately, it seemed common of him.

"Kory, I'm—"

"I know," she grimaced and continued mockingly. " _You're sorry_..."

He didn't reply, he knew he was out of line.

"Richard," Kory finally said, "I know Raven has become a bit of a sore spot for you, but eventually, you must forgive her… _I did_."

"Well maybe you shouldn't have?"

Her face grew hard and she shook her head lividly. "Perhaps you are merely seeking a person to blame. Raven is our friend, not a monster we fought. Don't let _my health_ ruin that friendship.

"I'm not talking about this right now, Kory," he lamented defensively.

"Then maybe you should not have entertained the subject in the first place?"

"I didn't, _you_ did," Dick snapped and walked out the door before the alien could even compose her response, a dark cloud following him out.

His face said it all as he made his way down the hall, the empty void resting in the place where his heart used to be. Like it had been ripped out, the love of his life someone missing, yet she was right there, just out of reach.

He turned the corner and stopped, he wanted to cry, but he wouldn't, he had to be strong now. He couldn't give up: not on _her_ , not on _them_.

He heard his phone ring and pulled it from his pocket with a sense of disinterest.

"Donna," he breathed as his chest fell. He answered the phone reciting a dull "hello."

"Hey, you free?" she asked, her voice less vibrant than it had once been. "Terry has Robert and Kyle's out of town, _again_. I thought maybe we could catch up?"

"Yeah I'm just leaving S.T.A.R. Labs."

"How is she?" Donna asked with concern.

"The same," he replied stepping into the lobby.

She sighed with disappointment. "Oh, Dick. I'm sorry."

"You and me both…"

"You wanna talk about it, I can be in your direction in 20 minutes?"

"Yeah, sounds good. Where you wanna meet?"

"How's the coffee house sound?"

"Good, I'll see you there."

8888

Kory waited by the window, lonely and empty. Her eyes rose to the sky for an answer, for anything that could fulfill her again, anything that could make her whole. She loved him, she truly did, but that didn't seem to be enough anymore.

She too had her guilt, she'd made her own missteps, they both had, long before their wedding and long before now. She'd judged him for something he couldn't help, something she still hadn't out right forgiven him for. It seemed humanity had affected her more than she'd realized. She recalled times when she could hardly look at him, disgusted with his _"behavior"_.

 _"How could he not know?"_ she told herself, her anger burning white in the place where passion once thrived. She couldn't bear to think of it, though the thought haunted her. She just couldn't divorce herself from her pain and heartbreak long enough to see he'd been violated and she struggled to pardon him.

 _What does that say about me,_ she thought with bitter irony, looking back on the memory of the dark haired woman laughing at him, pleased with the actions she'd inflicted upon him. Not even an ounce of shame for his troubles. Worse still, he was belittled and ridiculed for it, on _her_ behalf, and Kory just allowed it.

"When did I become so cold?" she said aloud, her tone filled with remorse, worried she'd never be able to fix it.

She felt a presence in the doorway, its nature somehow familiar, but dark and somehow distant.

"Did you forget something, Dick?" Kory drawled. "Or do you wish to play more of the _blame game_?" She paused, the figure before her taking her by surprise. " _Ryand'r_?"

The gold man smiled, a warmth taking over his chilly features, a warmth she regretfully could only recall in his infancy.

"Hello Koriand'r."

888

Dick watched the door as Donna entered the coffee house, offering him a kind smile as she caught him in her glance. She approached the table and set her bag down, removing her coat as she sat across from her lifelong friend.

"So how've you been," she asked, noticing Dick's glance fall a bit.

"Okay," he replied wearily, "I mean, if you wanna be optimistic?"

"That bad?"

He nodded. "What about you? Terry still being a fucking prick?"

Her brows raised in confirmation, Terry had become something of the _soon to be ex-husband from Hell_. Not that Dick was surprised, he'd never really been fond of Terry, and he wasn't alone.

"He's going for full custody."

"For real?"

"Yep," Donna nodded picking up her cup, "apparently, I'm an _unfit mother._ "

Dick grimaced at the sarcasm, knowing that if she wasn't cynical she'd cry.

"He did not say that?"

"He wrote a letter to the judge," she replied with more bitterness.

Dick could only shake his head. Donna'd had a rough go of things in the last year. The birth of her son had brought great turmoil to her life, forcing her to give up her abilities and culture for the betterment of her son and his future. However, that didn't seem to be enough for Terry after an incident took place at their rural home. Luckily, no one had been hurt, but it was finally enough for Terry, who'd apparently forgotten he'd married an Amazonian heroine. (Like be grateful, dude.)

"Can he prove that what happen at the farmhouse was connected to you?" Dick finally asked, concerned.

"In hindsight, yeah. I mean if he wanted, he could out me as _Wonder Girl_ and _Troia_ ," she said hushed.

Dick's face grew darker, realizing that the implication could prove more than destructive to Donna's life and reputation, not to mention, potentially himself and others. "Do you think he'll do that?"

Donna shrugged and shook her head with a tart look. "Honestly, at this point, I don't know what he'll do."

Dick furrowed his brow, a little floored. "Do you need me to do anything?"

"Like what?"

"I don't know? Talk to him maybe?" Dick suggested, not really knowing what he could really do other than use physical force to sway his motivation, which he knew would probably only serve to further Terry's dissent.

"Yeah, I think that might make things worse," she admitted, knowing Terry might very well take any intervention on her friend's part as an intimidation tactic. She couldn't afford that.

"Listen, I'm sure it will be fine," Dick assured, unable to imagine the State taking her son away.

"One can only hope," she sighed. "Anyway, you said Kory hasn't really made any progress?"

Dick shook his head. "It's like she's not even there anymore."

"Honey, I'm sorry…" Donna whimpered, a little guilt in her voice. She and Kory had always been close, but with Donna's current predicament, she'd sort of placed Kory aside.

"Worse, she wants to talk to Raven."

Donna looked back at him, her face still, not really sure what to say. "Maybe she should?"

Dick shook his head. "Absolutely not," he replied coldly.

"Dick, sweetie, I know you're mad, and I don't blame you. You're just trying to protect her, but maybe Kory doesn't need to be protected?"

He looked back at her, a little fury mixed with resentment, like he'd fall apart at the seams if that last thread weren't holding him together.

"I don't know what she needs—hell—I don't even know what she wants anymore..."

Donna recognized that look and the pain in his voice, the final death cry of a dying love. "Listen, I know you're trying to save your relationship, but maybe you both need take a step back?"

"And if I do that what's gonna happen?" Dick defended. "I can't—I can't just leave her, Donna. She'll be all alone."

"No she won't," Donna reasoned, "she has—"

"Who? _Us_? _The Team_? _You_?" Dick question venomously. "Cause last I checked, everyone's too goddamn busy to even pay her a visit. Jesus, everyone could have been fucked to go figure out why Raven returned, but hey no one gives a shit, right?"

"Y'know what, fuck you, Dick," Donna said and rose from her chair.

"Shit, Donna, I'm—"

"Save it. I am not your punching bag," Donna snapped making her way to the door.

"Donna, wait," Dick pleaded and caught her by the arm, considering himself lucky she was no longer capable of taking his head off. "I'm sorry."

She turned, but pulled her arm away. "Sorry that you lost your shit, or sorry that you're being unfair?"

"Both," he conceded. "I'm at the end of my rope, Donna and I don't know what to do."

"I know, I'm about to lose my fucking kid. I get it, Dick," Donna growled, "but you're blaming everyone else for something that couldn't have been helped."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means you and Kory's relationship was in a bad way long before Mirage, or Raven, or the team falling to shit, and you two never dealt with it." She paused as he looked away, like he knew everything she'd said was true, but he still had a hard time keeping it down. "I'm only saying that, because it happened to me, and look where I am now. I don't want this for either of you."

He looked back at her lost, like that thread was about to unravel. "What do I do?"

"Listen to Kory," she replied mournfully, "trust that she knows what's best for her, don't force what you think is best on her."

"I just don't wanna see her get hurt again," he said painfully.

"And neither do I, but if you keep…" her voice broke as she tried to gather her words. "...if you both keep going down this path, the love you two share… it will turn to hatred and you won't like who either of you become."

"What if I already don't?"

She shrugged as if the question were mundane. "I think you already know the answer to that, Dick… and I have a feeling Kory does too."

8888

Kory giggled, a small laugh she genuinely felt a connection to. It had been so long since she had. She'd not seen her brother in years and missed the better part of his youth as she'd been trafficked into slavery, an unfortunate circumstance she'd shouldered to protect her people. Ryand'r being little more than a toddler at the time.

She looked up at his now masculine face, the youthful glow of rosy cheeks little more than a memory, his gold skin not nearly as bright as hers. Still, their resemblance was haunting, Ryand'r favoring Kory far more than his eldest sister, who was still nowhere to be found.

They'd spent the last hour talking of their past and future experiences, sharing stories of their childhoods and their lives now.

"I cannot imagine father being so liberal with the mundane," Ryand'r laughed heartily at his sister's account of their father's elaborate antics.

She smiled warmly at one of her fondest memories. "Believe it or not, there was a time when he was." Her smile faded, thinking of the man her father used to be. He was still, for the better part, kind, but he'd grown more weathered as time passed, especially after Kory's enslavement. "So you've taken the throne?"

Her brother nodded, prideful, his days as a freedom fighter at an end. "Yes, I think father is relieved to be free of the burden."

"I can only imagine," she replied, recalling her once status as heir to the throne. "Has anyone heard from Komand'r?"

Her brother's face fell with the mention of her name. "No and thank X'haul," he replied coldly in regards to Tamaran's very own _Bloody Mary._ "Why do you ask?"

Kory glanced down and shrugged, her sympathy for their sister ever present. "She wasn't always that bad, you know? She hasn't had an easy life..."

It was true, Komand'r was the rightful heir to her families dynasty, however, her honors and privileges had been revoked due to scandals far from her control, as she were only an infant at the time. In later years, Komand'r's status as princess had been stripped, and not for any fault of her own, but for her lameness and disfavor by the Tamaranean people. Leaving her with the modest title of _The Lady Komand'r,_ her younger sister then saddled with the obligation.

"You feel too much for our disgraced sister," Ryand'r replied. "And on our world such sympathy could be seen as most treasonous."

Kory frowned, she'd nearly forgotten the paranoia of the royal family. "Forgive me, Brother, for I did not mean to offend your crown."

"I know," he reasoned, "but I fear that history has made me weary of such talk and Komand'r is, for as long as she lives, a threat to our family's legacy and our honor. That's the price you pay for being _anointed in blood_."

"I understand," and she did, but she could not fault Komand'r for the actions of others. Knowing if she'd been afforded the understanding and kindness she should have been privy to, she'd have been _most royal_.

"And speaking of our great family," Ryand'r added with a smirk, "I think it might be time."

"For what?" she asked with a quizzical grin.

"For the return of the _Faerie Queene._ "

Kory smiled with question at the sound of her old pet name. "I fear the Faerie Queene has clipped her wings," she sighed as she stood, looking out the window once more.

"Luckily the Faerie Queene does not need wings to fly," her brother replied, his reflection looking back at her. "Tell me, what troubles you, Sister?"

Kory crossed her arms and bit her lip, not wanting to burden her brother with her Earthly vanities.

"You can tell me, Sister," he insisted. "I promise not to judge."

Kory took a deep breath, looking up to the sky, the stars finding fire in the dusk. "The Earth man I was to marry, I fear our union, like our disgraced sister, was _anointed in blood."_

"I heard," Ryand'r replied, "I also know of your condition. That is why I came."

Kory turned and looked at him. "You must think of me as foolish and weak then..." she whimpered.

Ryand'r approached his sister, her head hung low, carrying a burden of sorrow. He reached out his hands and placed them on her shoulders, which had grown ridged with anxiety.

"My dearest Koriand'r, you have nothing to be ashamed of," he said as she lifted her weary head. "For love on this world is primitive and self-centered. How could you be expected to be obligated to one man for the rest of your days? An earth man at that!"

"That is not the source of my despair," Kory replied, knowing her brother could not understand the Earthly customs of love and monogamy. "I love him, I truly do, but… I don't know, maybe you're right, maybe my worldly nature has caught up to me? I fear the part of me that has grown attached to him will simply not let go..."

"It sounds like Earth has changed you, swayed your better judgement?"

"That I cannot say," Kory confessed. "But still, I am unsure of what I should do…or what I must do?"

"Come home," her brother said gently. "Come home to your world, your family and your people."

Kory took a deep breath and pondered a moment, but before she could even compose her reply, she spotted Dick standing in the doorway.

"Dick?"

"Hey," he replied, a little off put taking note of the Tamarian King. "What's going on?"

"I um," Kory began, but her brother then spoke for her.

"I have come to take my sister _home_."

Dick frowned with question. "Like a visit?"

"No," Ryand'r corrected, "indefinitely."

Dick looked over at Kory, the look on his face hard, but dripping in skepticism. "Is that true?"

She tried to answer, but couldn't quite find the words, the love of her life looking back at her as if she'd slashed out his heart.

"I think what my sister is trying to say is that she thinks the distance will do well for you both?"

Dick's eyes grew darker as he looked back at the Tamarian man, far taller and broader the he, but that didn't seem to faze him in the slightest.

"If you think for a minute that I'm just gonna let you take her away, then you really don't know who you are dealing with," Dick warned.

"I am very aware, Koriand'r has told me of your heroics as one of Earth's greatest champions. However, I regret to inform you that to the rest of the universe, your planet's best are subpar compared too many, including my own," the young king replied. "You may also want to pay me a little respect."

Dick smiled cynically. "Well I regret to inform you that your bullshit royalty is not recognized here."

"Dick," Kory scolded.

"No! I'm not gonna sit here and just take being talked down to by your brother, who could have been fucked to find you after your parents sold you into slavery, then made you marry a man you weren't even in love with for the sake of posterity—oh and then fucked off when it came to our own wedding, which ended with YOU getting injured and he's just showing up now?"

"Dick, stop it!" Kory pleaded again

"No!" Dick snapped, "Your family, after everything they have put you through, doesn't get to just show up one day and act like they have the monopoly on you—act like they CARE!"

"Yet you act as if you do?" Ryand'r replied coarsely.

"Fuck off, I've been here!"

"RICHARD!" Kory finally snapped, Dick glaring back at her. "Stop, talking," she warned and gathered herself. "Ryand'r, I apologize for my… _friend's_ disrespect—"

"Really Kory?" Dick snapped, cutting her off.

She glared at him a moment and continued, "—Which I hope you can understand given our _earlier talk?"_

"Given the circumstances of your _union_ , I can look passed this aggression, for now."

"Oh I'm sooo _grateful_ ," Dick drawled sarcastically, earning a cold looked from his alien lover.

Ryand'r smiled condescendingly, looking down his nose. "I think it would be best if I left you both to talk," he said politely. "Sister, think about my offer; I await your reply." He approached her, leaning in and kissing her cheek.

"Goodbye, and once again, I am sorry," Kory said weakly, not really wanting him to go.

"Nonsense," the king replied looking at Dick, "the fault is not yours."

Kory pursed her lips with disdain, trying not to fan the flames. "I will let you know."

"And I look forward to it," Ryand'r smiled confidently. "I do hope for the return of the _Faerie Queene_."

And with that, he took his leave, leaving the two distant lovers to quarrel once more.

"The fucking nerve of that guy," Dick grimaced once he was gone.

Kory looked back at him scornfully, her boiling point reached. "How could you embarrass me like that, in front of _my brother_?"

Dick looked back at her perplexed. " _Embarrass you?_ I stood up for you, which is more than your family has ever done."

She looked back at him with sour expression, her lips pinched with venom. "I understand that from where you stand, what I have been through with my family seems wrong, but on my world—"

" _On your world_ it's okay to sell your daughters into slavery, that's a crime here! Remember?" Dick interjected with disgust. "Here, we call that _human trafficking!_ Oh, but on Tamaran, which is supposed to be such a _progressive society_ , cause they could give a shit about monogamy and the social benefits that come with it, because why have the _entirety of a poor man than half a rich one?_ So you can go ahead and marry as many goddamn people as you want or whatever. Yep! And selling little girls is just fine as long as it saves the royal family!"

Kory's brow fell in disdain, her face cold. "You speak ill of my culture like yours is so much better?"

"Because it is, Kory! Maybe not universally, but _here_ it is. We make commitments to people and see them through, we fought a whole war in this country to end slavery, which Tamaran _still_ has! We don't sell our women for dowries or force them into marriages and we value human life, even for those who might not. Oh! And in this country, you can say whatever you want about the government and they can't do shit about it! So yeah, some cultures are better than others."

His long building rant earned him a rather cruel slap across the face, his head shooting away from her, her face not even flinching as she struck him. Dick had nearly forgotten just how strong she was, and he knew for the simple fact his head was still on that she'd held back.

"I can understand why you feel the way you do, and for all I've learned, maybe you're right, but that is still my family and my _home_ , and without it, I would not be the woman you _claim_ to _love_."

"I do love you!" Dick sneered, "that's why I wanna bring you _home_."

"I'm not ready to come home!" Kory cried as if pleading with him.

"Why?" Dick questioned venomously.

"Because I can't!" she retorted. "Alright, Richard, I can't!"

"WHY!"

"Because I don't know if this, whatever _this_ is, is working anymore! I can't stand what it's doing to us! And I can hardly bear to be around you!"

Dick paused stunned at her words, but didn't quite know what to say. For no words he wove could mend the fracture between them. Instead, he sunk down to the tile below, his mind and body finally shutting down as if he'd lay down and die if God were so willing.

Kory's face fell to dismay, her body shivering in the wake of humiliating her confession. She knelt down beside him painfully, her heart breaking as regret caught her but a moment too late. "Dick…" she began, "I didn't mean it like tha—"

"Than what did you mean?" Dick snapped, his eyes cold as the veil of denial was lifted.

Kory looked away, the door insight. "I meant what I said: I love you, but… ever since our wedding," she paused, watching him flinch at the mention of it, "there's just been this disconnect. I thought that with time it would lessen, that in time we'd find our way back to each other, but… the longer I stay with you, and you with me, the further we grow apart."

Dick swallowed the lump in his throat, his knuckles pressed to his lips as he shook his head. "I know," he confessed, "but I am not ready to _let go_. I'm not ready to lose you…"

"Dick," Kory whimpered, "I know, but if we don't let go now… we might lose each other forever..."

She'd begun to cry, her guilt and pain all snowballing into one heavily sorrowful feeling she couldn't keep down. She pulled her knees to her chest, pressing them to her broken heart. Dick took a deep breath and wrapped an arm around her, pulling her head to his shoulder, where she cried. He rested his head on hers, a tear finding its way to the red hair below.

Time passed as they just sat there in mourning, trying to imagine life without the other, their hearts' reluctant to move on, yet still beat out of sync.

An hour or so passed, the two unmoved, not a word said. Dick couldn't help but think of the little things, the moments that made them who they were as a pair. He'd watched her grow from a girl, born of an ethically grey culture and into a woman of higher morals and values. He couldn't bear to think of her going back to the very world that abandoned her. To the family that treated her as little more than common currency.

To them, their daughter's love and body could be bought and sold with little regard for her soul. Whether it were slavery or marriage, their treatment of her was backwards, reminding him of an ethereal _Anne Boleyn_. But too Dick, she was so much more than that. He valued her heart and her mind, he wanted nothing but to protect her from the sordid and egregious treatment she'd been subjected to. But how could he if she would not allow it?

He was suddenly pulled from his onerous thought as his phone again rang from his pocket. Kory glanced down, the sound reminding her of all the dates that had ended prematurely with that sound.

"You should probably get that," she suggested.

He shook his head. "It can wait."

"What if it can't?" She looked back at him, reminding him that he had a higher responsibility. One that far exceeded their childish sensibilities.

He sighed, grudgingly answering it as Tim's name once again glowed on the screen. "Hey man, now isn't a good time."

"Dick, listen, I don't have time," Tim began, his voice panicked.

Dick's face sobered as he sat up. "What's up? Is everything okay?"

"No," Tim managed, "It's bad. I can't explain it to you now. I just need you to get here."

"It's Bruce isn't it?" Dick asked with a furrowed brow.

"Yeah," Tim confirmed, "he needs you—Gotham _needs_ you."

"I'm on my way."

He hung up the phone and looked at Kory, her green eyes still on him.

"Kory, I'm sorry, but I have to—"

"I know, Dick," she said wearily, "go."

"But what about you?"

"I'll be fine," she urged. "Someone out there needs you more than I do right now, so go..."

His eyes grew glassy as he pulled her into a hug. "Just promise me you won't make a decision until I get back."

"Dick I don't know if—"

"Kory!" he pleaded cradling her face in his hands. "Please, just promise me you'll wait?"

She nodded and he pulled her into a kiss, the passion between them lit for a brief moment.

"I have to go, but I love you."

"I love you too."

And with that, he was gone, off to the mistress she knew he'd never leave. Still, to say she was bitter would have been unfair, for his selflessness was one of the many reasons she loved him. And yet, there was an emptiness, one _Time_ had not yet filled. She knew he had to go, that his calling was strong, but so was hers.

She opened a drawer and removed a thin piece of paper as she sat by the window. Her eyes fell upon the darkened sky above, the stars now lit with their furious beauty, she'd miss that.

Her gaze ruefully fell to the paper at her fingertips, its blank surface frightening, but somehow welcoming, like the open mouth of heaven. She placed her pen to the empty space and began:

 _Dear Richard..._


	2. Blame It On Bad Luck

_**A/N: Hey Guys! Sorry this update took so long, I'm sorta out Beta Reader and well renovating a house is not simple task! But we have been moved in for a month now and finish up the little things! I'm also getting ready to welcome home my new Kitty! So I have been really busy, but I've made some great progress with this story recently. I stared on chapter 6! So I'm currently on a role! As for this chapter, I'd really love some feedback as there is huge fight scene in this chapter and well, I really writing fight scenes and there are few thus far in the story (meaning future chapters). So If anyone has any helpful feedback on how I'm doing with them or how I could improve my exaction of them in the future I would greatly appropriate it. I'm gonna try and get the next update posted sooner this time. But I have a lot on plate and very little help. And Peter is not exactly a good proof reader. There I said it! Also if anyone is interest in helping with th editing process feel free to PM me and we talk more in-depth about what I'm looking for :)**_

 _ **PS I"m super excited for the chapter so I hope you all enoy this one cause the next one is right my alley!**_

 _ **With Love -Ophelia**_

 **Chapter 2**

 **Blame It On Bad Luck  
**

 _"Pound, my knuckles, hard against the floor,  
My head against the wall,  
But I did this to myself.  
Assume, it's just, not worth getting back up.  
So I'll blame it on bad luck,  
And I'll shake responsibility,  
And say: A hard life did this to me."-Bayside  
_

He stood at the mouth of the cave, the silence deafening as its cold chill ran up his spine. Not dissimilar to the first time he'd stepped foot into its unwelcoming charge. As a child, he recalled feeling overwhelmed by its darkness: The towering monitors pressed deep into stone, with jagged stalactite arced overhead like infinity, tapering down into monstrous fangs. Condensation often dripped from them like blood, spilling to the ground before his feet as a warning it'd devour him. And even now, as he entered its chilling depths, the cave didn't feel any smaller, yet somehow, he did.

He descended the stairs, looking down at what was one day supposed to be his, though part of him knew it would never truly belong to him. He paused, noticing the old uniforms, tucked away behind pressed glass, their legacy left in memoriam. He stepped toward the platform, approaching the remains of his childhood and _others_. He passed by several old variants of the Batman garb, recalling which ones he'd fought beside and which ones never truly made the cut, then there was _his_. He stood staring at it, it had been years since he'd seen it and even longer since he'd worn it. He recalled the first time he'd dawned the colorful uniform: He was hardly ten, his face still boyish and cheeks rosy with childish wonder, though his eyes had aged, their blue color stormier than his age should have allowed. But that was secondary to his nature, and it was secondary to the life he was destined to lead.

Old memories of it brought a smile to his face, both out of fondness and for how ridiculous it looked.

"Raven was right, I really did look like a traffic light," he said humorously, though it faded as he glanced to the uniform beside his.

It was similar, though this one was scarred and tattered, the armor damaged and the fabric burned, stained with blood. He wondered how Bruce could even look upon it—his _greatest failure_? But maybe that was it; a reminder to never let what happened to Jason, happen again? He glanced away, his own guilt taking hold of him. Thinking maybe if he'd stayed, or been less calloused by the _"replacement"_ that maybe Jason would have fared better, that maybe the young _Robin_ could have been spared? Or simply, that Dick was just given the chance to say _goodbye_?

He stepped away, pulling along his guilty conscience. So much had changed, yet not at all. He looked down, noticing the training equipment was still in its place. The peculiar relics and oddities still displayed somewhat humorously, but still, something wasn't right.

He stepped off the platform and made his way down to the main level, that's when it hit him.

"What the hell?" he scowled looking at the display of targets and weaponry meant to cause bodily harm to anyone who dare step in its path. The smell of fresh gunpowder still faint in the air.

He stood there unmoved, the sight troubling as he studied the assortment of foreign implements and dummies gashed and broken, standing in place of living beings. In horror he turned and looked up to the computer in desperation, moving toward it with haste as he pulled the chair out and punched in his access code before even sitting down.

 _Access Code 269-1812: ID Richard Grayson, formally known as Robin, Currently Known as Nightwing: Access Denied._

"What the?" Dick groaned, realizing that Bruce had obviously revoked his accessibility. Luckily for Dick, he knew Bruce's and Bruce never changed anything.

Dick quickly typed in the Bat's code and the override code he'd need to forgo the 15 minute waiting period the computer was armed with in the event of a breach.

 _Override Code: Successful: Access Code 435-1984 Bruce Wayne, Formally Known as the Batman: Access Granted._

"At least some things never change."

He began looking through the files, studying the database history, when he stumbled across one that was titled _Azrael._ He grimaced, the notion not sitting quite right as he opened the file, only to find a treasure trove of religious dogma. He scrolled through what appeared to be journal entries, the words nothing more than psychotic ramblings of a vengeful zealot with a taste for blood. But they were alarming nonetheless.

 _Entry #3: I fear The System—my very code of honor—may not be in line with that of The Batman. The Dark Knight's constitution is strong, (It has to be.) and in its shadow, I am nothing. I'm consumed within its blackness, it completely and utterly engulfs me. No wonder Bruce can no longer bare its burden—bare to watch this city die…_

 _Entry #5: I can hardly stand it! Even through gloves and armor their filth still reeks on my hands. Every night! when I arrived back at the cave and remove my uniform, I can see—FEEL—their blood on my bare skin, afflicted with their very mire, stained with their illness! And yet, no matter how long I scrub or how often I bathe, I CANNOT get it off! I need to improve the suit and the armor! I need to make it impervious! I need to make it better!_

 _Entry #7: As the weeks pass, I feel as though this world has grown filthy, riddled with rancid souls, drudged from a cesspool of perversion and heresy. It is my job to rid the world of this vile scourge humanity is plagued with. To cleanse their sickness from the earth, to eradicate their very disease from our soil. It is I who must set the flame and burn their flesh from the bone, and the bone to ash. Only then can the world be free of their pestilence. Only then will I be at peace._

 _Entry #9: In the beginning I tried to separate myself from the Batman. I thought if I divorced myself from the monolith, and better yet, Azrael, that these Ideologies would remain clear. However, it is only now I see the truth. If I wish to conquer this shadow, this monster I am taxed with, then I must embrace it for what it is: A demon. And like any demon, only the purest of souls can purge it from existence. This burden may be mine, but in turn, I, the seventh son of a seventh son will betroth myself to my fate and to my destiny. I will be the cure._

"What the actual fuck?" Dick howled in disgust and confusion. "Jesus Christ."

"Yeah, I have a feeling Jesus has nothing to do with this mess," a voice said from behind him, catching Dick off guard as he jumped.

"Christ—Tim, you scared the shit out of me," Dick sighed in relief. "How long you've been standing there?"

"Like a minute," the boy replied. "I thought I'd just let you read. How far'd you get?"

"Um right around the whole, _"betrothing himself to fate"_ and all that… shit. Who the hell wrote this?" Dick demanded in desperation. "And where the hell are Bruce and Alfred?"

Tim nodded, he too more than disturbed by the writings. "That's the thing, Dick, Bruce is gone, Alfred too," Tim noted with regret. "As for the _Table Talk_ Manifesto , his name is _Jean Paul Valley_ … he's Bruce's _replacement_."

Dick paused, looking back at the younger hero perplexed. "Replacement for what?"

Tim paused, knowing the words would hurt the older hero, but spoke them anyway, "As _Batman."_

His face fell at the declaration, that very name like a knife through the heart and a bullet to the brain. "For real?"

"I wouldn't lie to you about something like that, Dick."

Dick's mouth fell open, his thoughts clearly disjointed as he scrambled for a response, "Wh—Why didn't he ask me?" he stumbled, sitting down. "I mean… this was what he trained me for, this is what I practically dedicated my life to?"

"Yeah," Tim drawled, the man he looked up to at a loss, the sight leaving him unsettled. "I mean, he didn't do it to hurt you, he just thought—"

"What?" Dick snapped cutting him off. "That I didn't care, that I wouldn't come back?"

"No," Tim replied a little hesitant. "He just thought you wanted to be your own man now..."

Dick looked up at the young boy; this was the last thing he needed in his life, but it was something he'd have to see through.

"Even still, I would have come back."

"Listen Dick, I know all this is like a huge punch in the face, but I need to get you up to speed. So this _wounded pride_ thing is gonna have to wait."

"Okay—yeah, sorry," Dick said, scooping his bloody pride from the floor and stuffing it back into his gaping wound. "So what happened and what the hell is with all the target practice—I mean fuck?!"

"Well, I guess it's a good thing you're already sitting down then," Tim sighed, looking back at the mock criminals, riddled with bullet holes.

He then began to tell Dick everything that had happened over the course of a year. It seemed after Dick's wedding to Kory that Bruce befell a horrible injury at the hands of a monstrosity named _Bane_. The incident not only left the Bat horribly lame, but also mentally shaken. Tim even adding that the _"Bat had been broken."_

He continued, going on to say that Bruce had made the decision to retire, not only to focus on his recovery, but to focus on _moving forward,_ firing Alfred in the process.

At this notion, Dick shuttered; maybe the Bat really had been broken?

Tim went on, describing that Bruce had considered asking Dick, but withheld. As Dick had not only built a life for himself Bruce respected, but also didn't want to burden him with his legacy any longer. Instead, Bruce sought another option; a man who'd formally gone by the alias _Azrael._

Tim recounted training him, stating that he had his concerns about the man:

"He was kinda cold towards me, but I think we both know I'm kinda used to that. However, I notice that he washed his hands, like A LOT. He was also very orderly and had a high sense of self control and orderliness. He even made me look sloppy. When I mentioned these things to him, he attributed them to _The System_ : An Ideology he described."

"It sounds like brainwashing?" Dick frowned.

"Because it was," Tim confirmed. "He belonged to this weird cult when he was a child. I think Bruce felt sorry for him, so much so, that he'd looked passed the signs of mental instability."

Dick felt his brow knit harder, though it wasn't the first time Bruce took one so feral under his wing. And it seemed Bruce hadn't learned from his first failure as he'd repeated it, only this time the stakes were far higher.

"He thought Jean had potential and, at heart, he wanted to be a hero. I think Bruce thought he'd overcome his lesser nature, just as he had?"

"But he DIDN'T," Dick snapped shooting up from the chair.

"Yeah, no shit," Tim lamented. "He started off a little conflicted and I guess that's normal, but then he just completely jumped the damned shark!"

"Seriously," Dick said looking over the writings again, this time looking over the first entry:

 _It seems the mantle of the Bat has befell me, a legacy I was not meant for, yet has somehow found me. I will try to wear it with honor. Maybe then, I can overcome the destiny I was cursed with—the destiny of my father._

He looked away, feeling something of remorse for a moment, but pushed it away.

 _I could never be that much of a monster,_ Dick thought bitterly and looked over to Tim again, furious his mentor had charged the boy with such a volatile and fragile mind. And even more so that he: the rightful successor, had been cast aside in favor that monster.

"I can't believe him!" Dick growled, his hand slamming on the base of the mainframe. "You should have called me!"

"Dick, I wanted to, but Bruce said you'd—"

"I don't care what he said, Tim!" he snapped, turning to face him. "When shit like this happens, you call me! You ALWAYS call me. Got it?" he asked placing his hands on the boy's shoulders, his eyes shadowed in a fatherly manner.

Tim nodded, but remained silent a moment. He'd never seen Dick so infuriated before, and for a moment, he felt as if he were looking back at the man how'd trained him.

The alarm suddenly erupted, dragging Dick from his heated thoughts.

Tim immediately pushed back, looking up at the monitor. "We gotta move. There's something going down by the docks in an old warehouse."

"How original," Dick drawled with little feeling.

"Yeah it would be a lot easier if they'd just conduct their business in the street," he quipped, taking down the coordinates. "Now come on, we gotta get there before he does."

"You mean Jean?"

"Yeah, he's supposed to be the Batman now, remember?"

"Don't Remind me."

"I want my cut, LeHah," she growled like a pissed off cat, and in most respects she was.

She glared back at her opposition, this man clearly not aware who he'd gotten in bed with.

"Listen _Kitty_ , I asked you to bring me these relics—"

"Which I did!"

He grimaced as she snapped, her bite sharper than he'd expected. "They're scratched," he replied pointing to the slight damaged the sacred artifacts endured upon their capture, or at least he claimed.

"That's frankly dog shit," the cat-like woman snapped, "they're old and fragile, they probably got marked when they were pulled out of the ground. Now give me the _enable_ r, you gave me your word," her voice grew shockingly low, like a cat ready to strike.

He smiled. "Yes and you gave me _your word_ that you'd bring me the _The Collection_ unharmed."

She snarled, ready to rip the slippery smile off his face.

"A man's life depends on this deal and if you do not follow through, I'm gonna become a VERY _pissed off kitty_ , if you catch my drift?"

"Believe me when I say: I've dealt with my share," the man replied and pulled out a gun. "Deals off, Pussy Cat. Now get the hell out of here before I put you down, and not in a _good way_."

Her eyes darted to the gun and a smirk curled at her lips. "Oh I'm gonna put you down _real good_ ," she hissed and swung her whip with a ferocious strike, its tail cracking across the man's wrist.

He dropped the gun, and in his shock, her thunderous leg shot up, striking him to the ground.

"You literally barked up the wrong tree, little man," she whispered, draped over his body like a lioness upon her fresh kill, her claws bared. "Now, you have one last chance to give me what I want, or," she sang, her key a treacherous seduction as she drew blood from his cheek, "I'll literally rip into you like the rat you are."

"Go to hell, bitch," he whined as the door flew open, the man expecting his henchmen, but was instead met with a horrifying sight.

"He's mine, Catwoman, this is my fight now," an armored figure stated, blood running down his metal.

She shot back her gaze, her contempt for this new Bat clear in her eyes. "Typical man, comes too early and shows up too late," she sneered. "This rat's mine, get your own."

The figure stepped forward, his mask emotionless as he menaced. He said nothing as he struck her, her speed not quite fast enough as her charms were useless to him. She fell to the ground, her assailant reaching down and pulling her from the floor.

"That pile of filth is mine," he said viciously. "And maybe you're no cleaner?"

She struggled to free herself, but her claws only slipped down the steel protecting his hands. "You're no _Batman_ ," she growled as he ripped her hair back, exposing her fair neck.

"The Batman you adorned is dead," the unholy figure scolded, "I'm this city's new God."

She writhed at the sickness that purged from his mouth, his face sunken to a scowl. "And you are nothing more than a whore spreading your disease of the flesh." His hand rose to her extended neck. A single blade ejected from his armor as he held it to her vulnerable throat. "But no more will you spread your sinfulness with your vile perversion."

He pressed the blade to her throat, ready to spill her blood and drain her of her very life, when the sight of that _legendary cowl_ took form in a shadowy silhouette on the wall before him.

 _What in holy Hell?_ The Crusader Bat thought as he looked behind him, dropping his guard. "I thought you were—"

" _Retired,_ " Nightwing quipped, his hand formed in crude bunny ears before a shattered spotlight (shocked the tactic actually worked). "Yeah, he is."

"Then who the hell are you?"

"Your replacement," the hero replied, "You're up for early retirement, Jean."

"Jean...Your name is _Jean?_ " Catwoman snickered in a castrating manner. "I'm about to die at the hands of a guy named _JEAN_!"

"That is very disappointing," Robin added, happy to take Azrael down a whole peg.

"Not so big and bad now, are'y, Jean?" Nightwing smiled vindictively.

"I'm gonna kill you," the imposter growled in humiliation and threw Catwoman aside like a broken doll.

"Yeah, I figured you'd try," Nightwing drawled sardonically. "It's not like I haven't heard that one before."

The faux Bat struck out at him, but the hero blocked the blow, administering his own as his elbow crashed into a vulnerable part of his armor about the neck area. The shot stunted the foe, this masked assailant clearly on a higher par than most of the opponents this Bat had faced. Nightwing shot him an arrogant smile and delivered a flying around house kick to his helmed temple, the force enough to nearly topple him. Tim, of course, wearing a shit eating grin at the display. (He may have enjoyed the beating a little too much.)

"You got this, Nightwing?" Robin asked nonchalantly.

Nightwing nodded in response. "I think so, go check on Catwoman," he replied as Azrael charged him, the two locking horns: Escrima Sticks meeting pure steel as they clashed for the cowl.

Robin scurried for the woman as she pulled herself from the ground. "You alright?" he asked as she wiped a trickle of blood from her lower lip.

"I'm fine," she replied, brushing the young hero's hand away and pulled herself from the floor. She shook off her daze, as much as she didn't want to admit it, good Ol' Jean could really pack a punch. However, she licked her wounds and set her discomfort aside. "I've been hit a lot harder than that. Where's LeHah?" she added and noticed the man bound towards the door, his trophies in tow. "That son of a…" she scoffed and headed off after him.

"Catwoman, wait!" Robin called as she sprinted away.

"Sorry kid, I wait for no man, especially not little boys," she purred as she slinked away.

Jean—I mean _Azrael_ and Nightwing were in the thick of their battle as LeHah made his _bold(?)_ escape, the furious feline not far behind.

Azrael stopped, uttering a mere: "He's getting away," when Nightwing drove one of his Eskrima into another vulnerable spot of his armor, hitting the back of the man's knee.

"You forgot the first rule of _Bat Family_ training: Never let your guard down when fighting your opponent. And you have the gall to call yourself _the Batman_?"

The imposter turned to him, striking out murderously, cutting through the thin armor of Nightwing's suit.

"You're not the Bat either, you're merely a disciple not fit for the mantle," the unstable man spat. "You're nothing, that's why he chose me!"

Nightwing grimaced as the blood ran down his arm. "I don't need your validation, Valley! And I don't need _his_."

The two clashed again, each taking a shot and connecting with its target. Nightwing blocked another hit, determined to prevent any further injury, but before he could deliver a blow of his own, Azrael slashed out at the hero's throat, nearly making the cut. Nightwing drew back, away from the blade, giving Azrael the chance to kick out, colliding with the hero's abdominal muscles and knocking him off his feet. Jean may not been as skilled as Dick, but he had few morals in combat and this made him far more dangerous. Nightwing stumbled back, giving his opponent the chance to flee and make a run for his target. Though the hero was not far behind.

Robin chased after Catwoman as she ravenously pursued her pray to the lower level of the warehouse.

"Heal mutt!" she mocked, cracking her whip, the man falling to the floor as its tail struck his back. "That's a good boy, now give me that enabler before I _fix you_ for good."

"Not before I put an end to you both," Azrael proclaimed as he made his way to main floor.

Robin turned, his face fixed in determination. "The only thing coming to an end tonight is your charade, Valley!" he snarled.

"Your childishness has lost its amusement," the faux Bat spat. "You've become little more than an annoyance of late."

"Speak for yourself," the young hero retorted, drawing his bow staff.

"If you choose to stand between me and my mission, then I will be forced to put an end to yours."

"Try it."

"You have made a big mistake, kid," Azrael growled gruffly.

"No," a voice said darkly, crashing down upon him from the rafters, "you have," Nightwing huffed before throwing a right hook across the warrior Bat's gilded face. "You think what you are doing is honorable and Godly? What about _Thou shalt not kill_ , or _Do not take revenge?_ Or better yet," the hero continued, " _No other god before me,"_ and struck the man again, completely disgusted with his embodiment of the legacy and path he'd grown to follow. "You're not a hero and you are _no God._ And you are NOT _the Batman_."

A rage that festered in the crusader's heart erupted and he lashed out, catching Nightwing's fist and thrusting him backwards, Tim running to his aid. Azrael reached back catching Robin's staff and ripped it away, whipping him across the back with it. Nightwing cried out concerned for the boy now gripped by the hand of brutality, prompting Catwoman to come to his aid.

"Put him down you coward!" she hissed.

The mad bat peered back at the woman and smirked beneath his helm. "What the lady wants, she shall get," he seethed and threw the younger hero towards her.

Than maneuver took her by surprise, the boy crashing against her with a force she was unable to stand against. The two fell to the floor, Nightwing watching as he darted forward, determined to take the rabbit Bat down. Azrael intercepted his attack, blocking Nightwing's fist and delivering his own.

"That's a basic block and control maneuver," Azrael mocked, "and you think you are my superior?"

The hero fumed a moment, but refused to fall into the pissing match. Instead, he attempted another attack. He readied himself and stepped into the first blow, Azrael readying himself for an elbow strike, which Nightwing anticipated and blocked with his forearm, then drew his opponent's arm down across his chest and countered with a hammer fist.

"If you were truly _my superior_ then you'd have blocked that," Nightwing patronized as Azrael attempted to deliver his own hammer strike, but was instead blocked and countered.

"This game is getting old," he huffed as he got ready to showcase his suit's newest modification.

"Nightwing," Robin called out, though the hero was already one step ahead.

Valley aimed his closed fist at Nightwing, a small barrel hardly noticeable as it would fire at any moment. "There was a reason he didn't choose you, this is it."

But just as he pulled the unseen trigger, a swift object flew through the air, plugging the barrel and muffling the shot. The ignition kicked back, Nightwing quickly adopting a defensive stance and covered his ears as the armored rifle exploded, rendering Jean's new toy useless as he cried from the pain.

Nightwing glanced up, a shadow looming over head, the silhouette unmistakable. " _Batman_ ," he mumbled over Jean's scoffs and cries.

The imposter paused, his breath heavy as he looked up to see the Bat step out of the shadows.

" _You_ ," the faux Bat grimaced painfully, his blood running over his burnt skin.

"You're done, Valley," the Dark Knight said ominously.

"No," he scoffed in reply, "you're not the Batman anymore, _I am!_ "

The crusader bat began to charge, the Dark Knight getting ready to reclaim his legacy. Nightwing looked on a moment in nostalgia, but then moved to aid Robin and Catwoman as they both pulled themselves from the floor.

"For a kid you pack an awfully big punch," the cat-like lady groaned still catching her breath.

"Yeah," Robin replied, "and for a lady you're a pretty hard place to land."

"Kid, you have no idea," she sighed and made her way to her feet. "At least the real Bat's back," she added, a mild fondness in her voice.

"You guys okay?" Nightwing asked, finally reaching them.

Robin nodded and Catwoman sighed. "It's gonna take a hell of a lot more than the Boy Wonder and the Mad Bat to put me down, honey. Where's LeHeh?"

"He must have made a run for it," Nightwing replied, noticing the man was gone. "Why's everyone so worked up over that guy anyway?"

"Well, he hired me to do a job for him," Catwoman began. "He's been searching for a collection of blessed artifacts, it was my job to get the last two when they came into the possession of the _Gotham Historical Museum of Ancient Icons._ "

Nightwing grimaced. "What's so important about a bunch of old relics?"

"Supposedly the collection, when it's brought together, creates the _Holy Grail_ ," Robin replied to everyone's surprise. "I may have hacked the Cave's database to keep tabs on Valley."

"Well that would explain why, LeHah won't give me the enabler I was promised," Catwoman scoffed. "I shouldn't have trusted him."

"Don't be too hard on yourself," Nightwing insisted. "It seems you're not the only one to exercise some bad judgment," he added looking back at the battling bats.

"Well tell that to a man's family," she drawled bitterly.

"Where are you going?" Robin asked as she headed off in the opposite direction.

"To get what I came for," she sighed. "Now if you two wanna stand around and look pretty, be my guest, but of you wanna help put an end to this nonsense and proactively help save a man's life, feel free to tag along."

Nightwing looked back at Robin who shrugged, "You think Batman's got this?"

Nightwing glanced over as his mentor threw Azrael through a plate glass window with little effort. "Yeah, I think he's good."

"Good, now let see if you boys can keep up!"

Batman reached down and lifted Azrael from the floor, putting him in a choke hold. The armored opponent struggling against the mighty force he'd provoked.

"It doesn't have to be this way, Jean," Bruce said.

A spark of rage flared and Jean broke out of the hold. "No," she snapped. "I'm the Bat now, I am the _Dark Knight_!"

"Jean," Bruce tried to reason, "this is not who you are. Remember? You wanted to be free of your Father's legacy, you wanted to fight for justice! This—this crusade you're on—this isn't justice."

"You don't get to tell me what justice is!" he screamed with venom. "I have given myself to this cause! I have done EVERYTHING of my calling! I have done EVERYTHING you could never do!"

"Everything _I wouldn't do_ , Jean!"

"NO! This is my fight now—this is MY legacy! You're not strong enough for it, but I AM!"

He charged the Bat, the two crashing through a window from the second story.

Nightwing and Robin followed Catwoman out to the dock, LeHah making his way to a boat he sought as an escape route.

"He's gonna get away!" Robin called.

"Not if I can help it," Catwoman hissed and swung her whip, its tail wrapping around an overhang as she used it for leverage and sailed the length of the dock. LeHah turned just as the bottom of her stiletto struck his jaw, both Robin and Nightwing cringing at this display.

"That looked painful," Robin grimaced.

"It is," Nightwing nodded, as he'd unfortunately been on the receiving end a time or two. #StilettosAreWeaponsOfWar.

They watched the man fall back, hitting the steering wheel, the cat-like woman retracting her whip like a dominatrix from hell. That was about when the crashing of glass was heard, Nightwing looking back to see both Bats falling from the second story window, glass falling around them like ice.

"BRUCE!" he called, commanding the attention of Robin and Catwoman.

LeHah took advantage of this moment, and threw the boat into its fastest gear, knocking Catwoman off her feet. She hissed as her ribs hit the starboard (Apparently stilettos aren't great for balance; who knew?) LeHah deficiently trying to steer the boat.

Nightwing watched as the Bat bit his grappling hook into the side of the structure, pulling the rope taut. Azrael took hold of his form, not out of fear, but out of sheer spite. The Bat pulled the cord, directing both his weight and the force of the shock toward the wall, his masculine shoulder pressed to his opponent's sternum as his back was slammed into the brick structure with every ounce of force Batman could spare. A painful grunt escape from Azrael's throat as their fall was broken, the sound of his mighty armor scratching as it cracked upon collision.

Batman contracted the line, pushing his temporarily dismantled opponent toward the ground as they made the 12 foot drop. The faux bat's helmet cracked, its Knightly form unable to hold up to the burden that broke it. He could feel his ribs splinter, the pain crawling up his back as his body hit the pavement. The true Batman struck his face, a punishing strike, as if it were the disapproving fist of a father. His head shot to the side, the pain slipping into his neck, blood spraying from his mouth. He panted, nearly choking on the blood that seeped into his throat.

"I don't want to hurt you, Jean," Bruce explained, "it's not too late."

The anger bled through him once more, igniting his reserve. He reached out and took a large shard of glass in his hand.

"You're right," he panted, "it's not too late for me." Bruce let down his guard, only for a second, but that's all Azrael needed as he struck out his free hand. "But it's too late for YOU!"

Bruce blocked the blow, but in that instance, felt the tearing of his flesh as the glass was driven into his leg. The Bat growled at the pain, Azrael using the distraction to maneuver him over head and take the offensive.

The Dark Knight hit the ground, the crusader raining Holy Hell upon him.

"You know the difference between you and me!" he screamed between blows. "You gave up, I won't!" He struck his predecessor one final time and grabbed him by the head, in an attempt to slam his skull into the pavement. Bruce took hold of his wrists, stalling the assault. Grunts could be heard, both men putting all their force into the lock.

Suddenly, a loud crash was heard, Azrael looking up to see the boat LeHah had attempted to escape on had collided with the dock.

"LeHah?" he muttered, his visible eye quaking as he took in the scene.

The Bat took this opportunity to dismantle his opponent once more, trapping him in a pin he found difficult to escape from.

"Why is LeHah so important to you?" Bruce demanded.

"He killed my father!" Azrael growled in reply. "He needs to pay for that!"

"So you think killing him will set things right?" Bruce barked.

"Of course not!" the crusader barked. "But if his punishment helps me sleep at night, then so be it." And with that, he hit a button on his belt.

"What did you do?" Bruce asked as he heard a small beep.

"I rigged the boat in case he got away, it will blow in 30 seconds."

Bruce looked up at the boat, not hesitating to fly into action.

"It's gonna blow," Bruce cried. "Nightwing, get Robin out of here!" he demanded as the young hero had been knocked unconscious by a piece of flying debris.

The hero nodded, gathering the boy over his shoulder and caring him to safety.

The Dark Knight sprinted aboard the boat, Nightwing looking back with still breath as his mentor took hold of both Catwoman and LeHah. And in that instance, a loud detonation could be heard and a violent explosion followed, setting flame to the night sky, a brilliant display of fire and smoke bursting into the heavens.

"NO!" Dick cried as the air filled with smog, the force of the blast stirring Tim into consciousness. "BRUCE!"

"Dick?" the groggy boy questioned fearful, but received no answer.

A few hot tears fell from Dick's eyes in a panic. His gaze darted in a lost manner trying to find even a molecule of hope to cling to, but in that moment, there was nothing, only hatred. His stormy blue eyes fell on the man responsible as he laughed at his victory and rage took hold.

"YOU!" he growled as he threw Azrael to the ground. "You killed him! You killed BRUCE! You fucking psycho!" Dick hissed, beating him.

At first Azrael was taken aback, he'd never before been confronted with such rage that matched his own.

"He had to die," Azrael scoffed between blows. "Better yet, you should be happy! He died a hero!"

"He died because YOU! KILLED HIM!" Dick exclaimed and slammed his head into the concrete.

Azrael reached for a broken piece of debris, striking the hero across the head with it, dazing Nightwing for a moment.

"He made me do it! Just like LeHah!" he scowled wrapping his hands around Nightwing's throat and squeezed.

Nightwing reached for a broken piece of glass, determined to avenge Bruce by any means necessary and stabbed his assailant in the hand. Azrael cried, Nightwing jamming the sharp of his thumb in one of his open wounds.

"You wanna play dirty? Then I'll play fucking dirty, you bastard," the hero panted.

Azrael scowled and dragged himself from the ground. "So what? Your God dies and suddenly your mission doesn't matter? You just turn your back on everything you were ever taught?"

"NO!" Nightwing bit back and struck Azrael, "You don't get it, and how could you!" the hero drew his eskrimas once more and assumed his fighting stance. "Bruce wasn't my God, he was my _father_ and you killed him! That makes you no better than LeHah and the people you claimed to defend this city from!"

"No—that's a lie!"

"Is it though?" Dick countered coldly. "Or are you just as filthy as the scum and the " _filth_ " you can't seem to _wash off_ your skin? I think you are."

Azrael's face took on a rabid look as he charged the hero, Nightwing deflecting his attack, using his escrimas to block the blade the crusader wheeled. Tim looked on not sure what to think or do in that moment, the whole ordeal seeming empty and surreal. Something just didn't seem right.

The hero continued to fight the murderous knight, obstructing his slashes and taking shots whenever the opportunity presented itself. Azrael attempted an offensive strike, but Nightwing took hold of his head and slammed it against his armed shoulder. It was then Azrael tried to take hold of one of his escrima and use the weapon against him, but the hero blocked the maneuver with a wrist lock, using his weapon for additional leverage, as well as his opponent's weight and flipped him to the ground.

"You had enough?" Nightwing asked attempting to subdue him.

"This fight's not over," Azrael replied hoarsely, fighting the hold. "You're not brave enough to _end it_!"

" _Brave_?" the hero questioned. "You think that taking a life makes you _brave_? You don't know anything about bravery, you think your cause is noble and just? If the God you serve truly exists, he'd be disgusted with your ideology and your ability to dehumanize those that you deem as less than yourself. That doesn't make you righteous or brave, that makes you a coward, and worst of all, it makes you a _monster_!"

In anger Azrael broke free, his veracity for the truth wicked in his eyes. "And what about the scum we fight, what about them? Are they _brave_? I think not. They kill and murder innocent lives in the name of their selfishness! Are you telling me that someone like _The Joker_ , the man who killed your brother, that he deserves to walk this earth while a mere child decays in the ground!?"

Nightwing's face hardened. "You wanna know what it's like to be brave? Look into the eyes of someone truly evil and try to see their humanity, then try and forgive them only enough to overcome the urge to end their miserable existence! Only then can you truly know what it's like to be _brave_."

Azrael snarled like a mad dog, as far as he was concerned, this fight wasn't over until the _true king_ stood over the lifeless body of his opposer.

Nightwing glared back at him, this fight was about to end, and end on his terms. "You just gonna stand there and wait for some holy intervention? Cause I really don't think God's coming to save you."

The crusader charged him again, Nightwing waiting for the right moment to strike. Azrael drew up his sword, as though he'd drive it straight through the hero's heart, Tim watching with horror. But at the last minute, Nightwing ducked, cracking an escrima against his broken ribs and threw the sword aside. He took another few jabs at his back and chest, throwing him off kilter, just enough to ready himself for a down round kick he executed perfectly. The strike immediately broke his opponent's nose, blood pouring from his nostrils. However, this still wasn't enough to take him down as he drew a small dagger in one last attempt to win the battle. But Nightwing didn't hesitate, and the moment the imposter misstepped, Nightwing struck him with one final butterfly kick to the temple, his parietal bone fracturing on impact.

The stunned foe fell to the ground, his defeat clear as all consciousness left his body, hitting the damp ground.

The hero stood, breathless and fully charged, his body suddenly falling from attack mode. Azrael lay at his feet, defeated and bitter as his body refused to move.

"That was for Bruce," he exhaled, his chest heaving as his adrenaline extinguished.

Tim came running to the scene as Nightwing knelt down and secured the faux Bat's bounds.

"This isn't over," the crusader whimpered painfully.

"It is," the hero replied.

"No!" Jean begged. "I'll accept my defeat, but you have to end this. I'm begging you!"

"No," Dick asserted. "If you think dying for your cause will save you from the Hell you created, then I'm sorry, but you're just gonna have to live with the burn."

"Nightwing," Tim cried finally making it to the older hero.

Dick wrapped his arms around the boy as he was visibly shaken.

Sirens could be heard in the distance, the police would be there any minute.

"Did you mean what you said—is he..." Tim began, but tripped on the words.

Dick grimaced and looked to the flames consuming the boat, unsure what to think or to say. "I—uh—I don't…"

Just then a grunt could be heard from the other end of the dock and a gloved hand arose from the water.

"It can't—"Nightwing uttered and shot to the edge of the dock, Tim at his side. "Bruce!

A rough breath huffed as a figure pulled himself from the water, draped in a black cape.

"Bruce!" Tim cried gratefully.

"Here take her," Bruce sighed tiredly, pulling Catwoman to safety.

Dick and Tim both took hold of the woman and pulled her from the water, a damp cough freeing itself from her lungs.

"She okay?" Tim asked as her eyes fluttered open.

"Not sure," Bruce breathed, pulling himself up to the dock and laid down beside the woman. "Is it weird that I kinda missed this?"

"Yeah," Dick nodded with concern. "You guys alright?"

"Well I could make a wet cat pun, but that would just be too obvious," the feline said with a cough.

A slight smirk fell over the Bat's face. "She's fine. Where's Jean?"

"He's currently laying in a pool of his own blood and shame," Tim replied. "Nightwing showed him what it means to be a real hero!"

"I wouldn't expect anything less," Bruce replied, a hint of pride in his voice.

Dick looked away, but said nothing and moved on to the better the question, "Where's LeHah?"

The smile vanished from the Bat's face. "He...he didn't make it."

Nightwing's face fell, his own defeat present now. "So I guess Jean won after all…" the hero sighed, his brow sunken.

He turned, gathering himself. Jean may have lost the battle, the war, and the cowl, but he won the argument, and in that moment, that was all that mattered to Dick.

Bruce pulled his aching body from the dock, collecting himself and placed a hand on the young hero's shoulder. "He didn't win, Dick."

"Well it feels like he did..."

"I know, believe me," the Dark Knight said painfully. "But every battle cannot be won."

"I know that," Dick replied, "but some losses sting more than others."

"That's true," Bruce agreed, "but this loss is mine. I shouldn't have trusted my legacy to anyone else. I made the wrong choice. And if it's alright with you, I'd like to make the _right_ one."

Dick glanced at him, his face softening. "What do you mean? You're _the Batman_?"

"Yes, but I'm still not ready to be. I still have somethings to straighten out, things keeping me from _moving forward_. And I think Jean has proven that you can't be the Batman unless you're ready. And I'm not…. But you are."

Dick glanced back at him, his eyes quizzical behind his mask.

"I need you to be the Batman for a while, Dick. I should have asked you from the beginning, but I didn't want to hinder you, and I didn't want to intrude."

"I know now," Dick replied, "better yet, I saw it."

"It's a hard burden to bare," Bruce continued, "part of me was only trying to protect you from it, but I see now I raised you for this, and I see now you're probably better suited for it than I."

"I wouldn't go that far," Dick countered, but appreciated the admission.

"So what do you say? Do you think you can handle it?"

"I know I can," Dick replied, "but if it's okay, there's something I need to do first."


	3. Tired of Tommorow

**_A/N: So here is chapter 3! I'm currently working on 6 and cleaning up 4 and 5. For those of you (pretty much everyone) who have voiced their intrigue in regards to Raven and Wally, well you get your first glance right here within in these pages ;) As for the Kory / Dick portion: Peter etched out the idea for the chapter and then I wrote it out and added what I can only describe as my own personal touch. That being life experence and drawing inspiration from my favorite band at the moment: Nothing. I titled this chapter after my one of favorite songs. So if you feel the need to take a listen, I would suggest waiting till you're in the right frame of mind, because that song will take you to Mars if you are Lol. I'd also like to thank my friend Jenn for editing for me. It honestly helps so much! Thank you! I hope you all had a great holiday! I'm hoping to have the next chapter up by Christmas. So let me know what you think so far and thank you for reading!_**

 ** _P.S. For those of you reading Red Right Hand, I'm getting ready to edit! So hopefully that update is ready by next week or so... defiantly by Christmas!_**

 ** _With Love -Ophelia_**

 **Chapter 3**

 **Tired of Tomorrow**

 _"Leaving from LA,_

 _Turned into a, graveyard, today._

 _So the train moves East,_

 _Where the mouths of Heaven,_

 _Devour, me."_

— _Nothing_

He made his way out west, his heart longing for something familiar, something he missed more than anything. However, he couldn't help but feel as if his trip back east was like a funeral march, the cold chill of death dragging him home in chains. Yet the world he'd left didn't fare much better. It seemed as though it did not matter whether he traveled east or west, for neither axis could mend his breaking heart, nor could it the soul.

He stepped off the plane and set out toward S.T.A.R. Labs, his mood saddened and static. Inwardly, he felt trapped, bound within rusting chains of today, as if tomorrow'd never come. He'd felt like that for a long time.

His face fell as he looked up at the building, its cold face unwelcoming and detached. This place was not a home, nor was it meant to be, yet somehow, she preferred it there. She preferred being away from _him_.

Part of him simply wanted to turn away and give up, just let go of the pain and regret, but how could he do that to her? She'd seen him through so much, looked at him when he could not even look at himself. He owed it to her to fight, to be the man she fell in love with. But who that was, Richard Grayson could not be sure.

He entered the building, greeted numbly by the cold air as he stepped into the lobby. He'd grown so tired of this place: The stark white halls, the sterile nature of it all, it felt inhuman. As if pressed under glass, tucked away from the world as it went by without you. He pondered how she could bare it, or whether she just endured this suffering to be mildly free of him. And what a bitter pill that was to swallow.

He tried to push the thought away, though he found that doing so was far more difficult given their last conversation and their lack of communication as of late. He'd left her several messages, none of which she'd returned. Something which left him rather frustrated and dejected.

He stepped toward the desk to check in, the pretty blonde, a woman by the name of Anna, sat behind it as she looked up to great him. Typically, she was warm and pleasant, a sort of kind breeze among harsh winds within these walls.

"Hey Anna," he began, noticing her face rather turbulent, as if she'd been caught by surprise.

"Dick," she said sort of flabbergasted. "We weren't expecting you, is everything alright?"

The hero immediately questioned this response, as it appeared something was amiss. "As far as I know; did something happen?"

Anna's mouth fell ajar, as though searching for the words she didn't have. "Um, you know, it's probably best if Sarah tells you."

"Tells me what?" Dick fumbled, "what's wrong?"

"Uh, just wait here," she replied and left her desk before Dick could ask any further questions.

She stepped behind a glass window, beyond it was a room where several of the doctors were conversing about something benign to Dick's predicament. Among them was a woman he'd known quite well as she was once romantically involved with Victor. The woman looked back as Anna mentioned his name. In her soft brown eyes was a sympathetic thought that was telling. She knew what was to come his way and shuddered. He watched as she nodded in his direction and lifted her finger, letting him know she'd be with him in a moment, though her eyes were still sallow and defeated.

He looked on as she excused herself and left the room, motioning in his direction. Her face thick with pity as she knew Dick would not like what he was about to hear, and she couldn't blame him.

"Sarah, what's going on?" Dick asked with alarm, "Is Kory okay?"

"She's fine," Sarah replied, "but I think you and I should speak in my office," she added, motioning her hand toward the hall.

"Why, what happened?"

Sarah looked back at him, unable to help but feel for the hero. "We should probably discuss it in privet," she urged.

He nodded and took a deep breath, the woman before him giving him a grim smile as she led the way. Once inside the safety of her office, she closed the door and offered him a seat.

"Just tell me what happened?" Dick said trying to hold back his panic.

Sarah looked at him and crossed her arms. "Dick, you really should sit down..."

His jaw grew tight as he swayed, not wanting to give up what little control he had left, but sank to the chair behind him.

Sarah nodded and began as she made her way to her desk. "Okay, I'm not really sure how to tell you this," she began uncomfortably, "so I'm just going to say it: Kory left."

"What?" Dick spat. "How?"

Sarah paused, trying to compose her response. "I know you're upset and I don't blame you, but—"

"Sarah—HOW?"

She glanced down, knowing there was nothing she could say to mend his ever broken heart. "She signed herself out."

"Can she do that?"

"Well yes," Sarah replied simply. "You were her proxy, but she signed herself in, and therefore, she could sign herself out, whenever she wanted… And she did."

"When did this happen—where did she go?"

Sarah looked away, Dick becoming visibly upset. "I'm not sure, Dick—"

"HOW DO YOU NOT KNOW—"

"DICK!" the doctor demanded. "Believe me, I know this is upsetting and if I were you, I'd probably be throwing my fist through a wall right now. But there was nothing I could do," she asserted. "Now, I don't know where she went, but she left me this to give to you." she reached into her drawer and pulled out an envelope with his name elegantly written across it in Kory's hand. "She said that everything you need to know is in this letter."

Dick took the envelope, looking down at a loss, his whole world burning at the edge of his fingertips. He got up, completely removed from reality as it crashed hard against his shore.

"I have to go," he declared, practically crawling out of his skin.

Sarah stood in alarm, the man visibly ready to break. "Dick, maybe you should stay and speak with someone—"

"NO!" he spat. "I'm fine."

"I'm not sure you—"

"I said I'M FINE, Sarah!" he barked, once again unable to bite back the venom he held, his contempt hard to overcome.

She paused looking back at him, the level of anger that burdened him something rather unbecoming. Dick glanced away, he knew he was out of line, but the news was hard to take all at once.

"Richard," she began, "I know this is hard, believe me, I do, but, shooting the messenger is not gonna help."

"I know that, Sarah—I'm sorry," Dick replied. "But do you have any idea where she went—anything?"

"Like I said, everything you need to know is in the letter," she replied painfully. "That's all she told me."

"Why didn't you call me?" he grimaced in defeat.

"Because she asked me not to."

He looked down at the letter, his name the only thing staring back at him. He remained silent as he turned and opened the door, Sarah calling for him to wait, but he ignored her pleas and made his way to toward the lobby and out of the building.

The fresh air hit him like a wall, the sun beating down as he left the glooming shadow of the lab. It was like he couldn't breathe, like his heart would cease to beat. He made his way down the steps nearly an inch from breaking and set out toward the park not far from .R. Lads.

He could feel the cool breeze on his skin as it rustled through the trees, the birds singing as though all was right in the world, only it wasn't. He finally found a secluded spot beneath an old oak tree, his back falling against the trunk with a heavy breath. His hands shook as he opened the letter, pulling the piece of paper free when a set of gold rings fell out.

His heart sank as his eyes took one's familiar form; it was his mother's, a keepsake he'd given to the woman he loved, a token of his undying devotion to her. He stared at it, recalling the day he'd given it to her. Kory's green eyes had filled with tears, her heart swelling with the deeply emotional sentiment. He could have bought her anything, for any price, but he chose to give her the one thing he possessed that money could never buy—love.

The memory caught in his throat like a knife through his windpipe, his eyes falling down to the page before him:

 _Dear Richard,_

 _I am sorry to inform you that by the time you read this letter, I will be gone. Beyond the stars that will lead me back home. I know this will be upsetting to you, as I had promised I would wait for your return. Only you and I both know if I had waited, I would have stayed, and I'm sorry to say that, I cannot._

He read on, his eyes growing deep with turbulence and fury, his hand closing around the letter as he crushed it in his grip and set off…

 _I decided to return home with my brother, I know you are not fond of him and I understand your concerns. But you must understand that here, I am a tiger among wolves, or a song without words, I do not belong here. And though I've called the world you have shared with me my home these past years, I fear I must return to mine… And I regret to say that I don't know when, or if I will return._

He stormed out of the park, a dark cloud billowing overhead, his pace set on fire as if the world itself were ending...

 _Please do not take this personally, I care for you deeply, more than you could ever know. Never had I thought I could love a human or any man the way I loved and will always love you. And that is why I could not say goodbye._

 _Over the years we have had our moments, moments of fond memories and laughter, most of which are the ones I cherish most. But there are also moments that have left us wanting, moments of bitterness and tears. Moments where neither one of us are guiltless._

 _This past year has been one of those Moments._

The flames devoured him, the sky above filling with clouds of smoke. His everything burning up into _nothing_...

 _I have numbly ignored you and blamed you for things that were not even in your power to prevent. And I have stood by while others ostracized you for mistakes you were not even responsible for making, simply because I was upset with you… To punish you._

He looked up at the sky as those final threads frayed. The seams that held the stars above unraveled and heaven came crashing down upon him, its shards ripping through him like daggers through the heart… And in the crashing loneliness, the saddest song he knew began to play…

 _For a year I have watched you wither away, each day slowly becoming a stranger of the man I have grown to love and adore. No longer my lover, but an overbearing father I cannot wait to be free of. I cannot bear to watch you become this, just as you cannot bear to watch me shrivel into the resentful shrew I fear I am becoming. We both deserve better._

The sad key filled his mind, the lines on his face reading each note as they resonated in blissful mourning...

 _I know if I remain here that you'll convince me that this is not forever, that eventually we will find our way back to each other, because you've said it before. But this year has been an eternity in hell for the both of us, and I do not like who we've become. We are too young to hate each other like that, and hate you, I do not. But to be with you now, I fear that hate would become us and I cannot allow that to happen._

A cold emptiness rolled in, the wind growing harsher as he remained stranded in those words of _today._..

 _The years have passed and our day has ended, and that last day in the hospital only assured me that our sun has set. To move forward from here would leave us blind, like strangers in the night, simply killing time like ghosts lost in the fog. I cannot bear to watch you kill yourself anymore. I can't bear to watch you pray for a tomorrow that will never come. Because for us there is no tomorrow and at some point we became trapped in today. It's like our wedding day never ended._

…Tired of Tomorrow...

 _I've said my goodbyes, and I've informed our friends not to tell you of my departure. I know whatever obstacle you had to face in Gotham needed your full and unbridled attention. I will not jeopardize your life and safety. Even if I know you would. I love you too much and I know you too well._

 _I need you to promise me that you will not come after me. I need time. I need to learn who I am without you, and I need to learn who I am among my people. I know you can understand this, so please, let me go… This is my way of setting you free, free of myself and my burdens._

...Tired of mistakes...

 _Please look after Donna, her divorce has really hit her hard and how can it not? You and I can both understand this, as our life together has now come to an end. I know you probably feel like a failure, like you failed me, and in truth, I feel that way as well. That I was not strong enough for you, that I'm still not. I know Donna feels this, that she has for a long time, and in a way, I'm trying to spare us that turmoil and the hatred Donna and Terry now feel for each other. I do not want that for us, I do not want to regret my time with you, and I do not want to hate you._

...Tired of the failure,

 _I hope you can forgive me of this, if I thought there were a better time, I'd have waited, but I realize there will never be a better time. Because no matter what, you will always feel that I abandoned you, and there is no escaping that burden. Forgiveness is something I have always admired of you, but as of late, forgiveness is something you have not afforded to those around you. And it is rather unbecoming of someone who is so kind and selfless. Forgiveness, Richard, has always been a gift of yours, a virtue that most could only dream of cultivating. I know you hold blame and anger towards people such as Bruce and Raven, and to a degree, I know they do too, but it is only you who can absolve them of their guilt. And you should. You cannot go on with that kind of hatred in your heart, it will inevitably turn you into the very thing I know you do not want to become._

The bitterness and blame,

 _If my time with you has taught me nothing else, it has taught me the value of others and it has taught me_ _trust_ _. I can say the love I hold for our friends, and more importantly—you, is like no other love I have ever experienced. And without you, I would not be the woman I am now, nor the woman I will become. I can only hope I have left you with a similar impression, that the love you feel for me has changed you for the better. So let me leave you with that, that I love you and that if nothing else, I only want the best for you. And like the North Star in the night sky, I hope my memory will always guide you home._

 _With Love and my Deepest Apologies —Kory_

And the loneliness he faced now.

He looked up to the building before him now, his face cold as stone, frustration bleeding from his eyes as they were not quite numb. She had to know, at least know something.

He bound up the steps at a fevered pace, urgency spurring him forward, the only thing keeping him form the ground. His anger and heart ache drove him up each flight of stairs, his face fixed in a deep frown and his eyes tempestuous. His sight narrowed, her door waiting down the end of the wall and he charged.

"Raven!" he shouted, banging on her door. "It's Dick—we need to talk!" A moment passed, there was no reply. "Raven!" He questioned again, yet still not a sound to be heard. "RAVEN!" He shouted louder, hitting the door with more ferocity, his temper coming unhinged. "This isn't about you, this about Kory! I know you know something, now open the door!" He begged, not noticing the figure standing behind him.

"You're wasting your time, Dick," he heard a voice say. "She's not in there."

He paused and turned, a familiar redhead standing behind him. "Wally? What are you doing here?"

"Vic called me," he replied, "apparently Sarah called and told him that you know. I'm sorry, man."

"You knew too?" Dick snapped in a dull manner.

Wally shook his head. "I only found out like a day ago, I would have said something, but I heard you were in Gotham helping with the whole _Batman thing_."

"You knew about that too!"

Wally rolled his eyes, unaware of how in the dark his friend was. "I thought you did too."

"Jesus Christ," Dick tiredly groaned as he sank to the floor, Wally standing over him at a slight loss. "Anything else I should know?"

"No," Wally replied as he crouched down beside him, "I think you're up to speed as far as… well, as far as I know."

He watched as Dick glanced up at the ceiling and rubbed his forehead with his shaking fingers.

"I already know the answer to this question so I'm gonna ask it bluntly, but on a scale of: _I'm pissed_ to _I'm gonna fucking kill someone,_ where are you?"

Dick turned his head toward him, his face void of humor as his stare grew cold.

"So about an inch from _I'm gonna Kill somebody_ , got it."

Dick let out a sigh and shook his head. "It's like everyone just built this reality around me and just didn't tell me."

"I can see how you would feel that way," Wally replied ironically and cracked a smile.

Dick glared at him again, the redhead unable to completely mask his nature. "What's so funny?"

Wally's grin stretched a little further as he replied, "I don't know, I guess I just never thought I'd be on the other side of this."

"Other side of what?"

"This," Wally blurted, "I'm usually the one hanging on by a thread while you talk me off the ledge, the irony's rather priceless, actually."

Dick let his head fall back and hit Raven's door. "You're enjoying this aren't you?"

"Only a skosh."

"I fucking hate you."

"You love me," Wally sang, "Don't deny your true feelings, man."

Dick glared at him again, then stared at the wall. "I _really_ hate you."

"You'll come around," Wally joked. "They always do."

"So how did you know I'd be here?" Dick finally asked.

"You weren't home so, I don't know, I guess I figured you'd take your anger out on an easy target."

He didn't say anything, he didn't have to. "So then how do you know Raven isn't home?"

"Well to start she doesn't live here anymore," Wally shrugged.

"And you know that _cause_?"

The Speedster looked at the hero perplexed; apparently a filter was something Dick was not fitted for these days.

"It's not like that," Wally began. "I ran into her last week in Keystone, she apparently got accepted into a medical program there."

"Med school?"

He nodded. "Yep full ride and everything."

Dick glanced down at his hands recalling Raven's healing abilities. He wanted to be happy for her, but he just couldn't bring himself to be.

"And you're okay with that?"

The speedster's brow sunk. "Why wouldn't I be?"

Dick looked back at him with question. "Because the last time she got close to you she used you… She broke your heart."

Wally bit his tongue and looked away. "I'm over that, that shit happened a long time ago."

The hero stared, his expression unchanged.

"Don't look at me like that, I am fine."

The hero shook his head. "You're not, you never quite shook that girl." And in truth he hadn't.

"Like I said," Wally asserted, "it was a _long_ _time ago_ , things change. Maybe I'm not completely over it, but whoever is? I mean you're still pissed at Bruce."

Dick's brow hardened. "That's not the same thing."

"Yet you still feel betrayed," the speedster replied. "Listen, I'm not trying to attack you or judge you. I didn't come here to twist the knife. I came here because I understand what you're going through and I get it, it's hard, to love someone that deeply and then lose them in one way or another. Love like that cuts straight to the bone, Dick. I know that just as well as you do."

The hero looked through the wall, beyond every broken dream now shattered to pieces. He didn't know where to go from there, the ruins around him too burnt to salvage.

"I don't know what to do, Wally?" He said sadly. "I don't know who or what I am without _her_."

He wanted to cry, but he wouldn't, not yet.

Wally could see the tears ready to fall, his heart sinking to a familiar place. "You do what you have to: You pick up the pieces, you tape your broken heart back together and you figure out how to feel _whole_ again… that's all you can do."

Dick let out a rough breath. Wally was far from the man his father was, but even so, there were still traces of him in the speedster's nature. That masculine approach to remain strong, to never falter or stray from that demeanor, and to never show the capacity of breaking. Though Dick wondered how much of that was actually Wally and how much of it was imprinted on him by his father, it was often hard to say. Rudolph West was hardened and cold, mainly because he was raised that way, both his parents being physically and emotionally abusive. He, himself, growing into the very portrait of his hellish childhood, leading him to develop a problem with alcohol, which only fueled his volatile temperament. Wally had pieces of this as his father often scolded and criticized him, even going as far as to strike him for the inability to comply or simply getting in the way. However, Wally had his friends to help parent him and he had Barry. Barry knew that deep down, Wally wasn't cold, he was merely a dreamer who removed himself from the world when he had to. That he could be the man he sought out to be, he just needed to learn how.

Dick often thought that was the link he shared with Raven, that they wanted to be better than the past and break the cycle set before them. Better still, they saw each other in a way many couldn't. They saw past their defensive exteriors and witnessed the vulnerability that lay beneath. Dick recalled Raven articulating this sentiment, that she could see she and Wally were not all that different. Their past together may have been messy and in some ways, undiscovered. Yet, somehow, through it all, they found comfort in each other. This led Dick to the conclusion that it was Wally that kept Raven tethered to humanity. That he was the only thing standing between her and that darkness. He reminded her that she was human, that her needs and desires were natural. That they weren't a manifestation of her demonic half. That it was only when he left that she finally descended deeper into the darkest part of her soul.

"Is that what you did," Dick finally asked, recalling how long it took Wally to move on, something that took a huge toll on his relationship with Frances, though she'd done a lot of that damage herself.

He nodded and brushed his brow with his thumb. "Yeah, I mean, I had to." Wally looked down, his past with Raven was complicated and deep, parts of it serving better memories than others. "I mean, she was something I never really had, yet she was everything to me, that was hard to let go of."

Dick glanced at the wall again, as though whatever waited beyond it held the answer, but still, all he could see was the plaster.

"I still can't see a tomorrow, I can't see my life without her."

Wally grimaced, knowing the sentiment all too well. "I know the feeling."

The two men sat in silence, each one unsure of what to say as new and old wounds began bleeding.

"But sometimes… you need to believe in tomorrow, just take it day by day. Don't worry about what happens after that, you put one foot before the other, one step at a time."

"You sound like an AA meeting."

"Well when you have an alcoholic father you become an expert at the _12 Steps_. Though to be fair, Rudy never got past _Step 1_. I on the other hand, I had to."

"Apparently," Dick added, recalling the harder moments of Wally's life in a detached manner.

"Y'know man, if you wanna go somewhere and talk, I'm happy to listen," Wally added, looking back at his heart broken friend.

Dick gave him a weak smile, but shook his head. "I appreciate that, but honestly, I just wanna go home and pack. I kinda need to be alone right now."

Wally looked back at him a moment as his brow furrowed. " _Pack_?"

Dick shrugged, if anyone would understand, it was Wally, but if anyone would call him out for giving up or running away, it was also Wally. "Yeah, Bruce needs me to take over as Batman for a while, so I'm gonna go do that."

Wally nodded. "Okay, but… you sure you're not running away?"

And there it was.

"That's just an added bonus."

"You sure that's the right thing to do?"

Dick took a deep breath and exhaled bitterly. "There's nothing here for me: I have no team, everyone I know has moved on to something else, all I had was Kory, and she's gone… I don't even know if she's ever coming back."

The words hurt to recite, his tongue accosted with the bitter taste of failure and irony. There was nothing left to fight for in this city, no reason to remain. It was simply but a graveyard of old memories, rotting in the streets as they decayed before him in this hell of yesterday. The only thing left to do was walk away and hope the wind would take him someplace kinder tomorrow.

Wally grimaced, he wasn't really one to talk " _running away"_ something he ironically did all too well. "Well then, I guess I can't really stop you," he nodded. "Hopefully Gotham offers you something of a fresh start." And he meant that.

"I doubt it," Dick sighed, "but it's far away from here so it'll do, for now."

Wally glanced away; there wasn't really much he could say, but he understood. "On that note, I guess I should let you get to it then?"

"Yeah…"

The speedster lifted himself from the floor as the hero followed. "And Dick," he added mildly, "If you need anything... I get it."

Dick nodded, a slightly grateful smile slipping through the fog. "I know," he nodded, "thanks."

Wally returned the sentiment and his phone buzzed.

"That Linda?" Dick asked recalling Wally's girlfriend of the last year.

"No, we broke up a couple months back," Wally said dispassionately, typing a text.

"Really? What happened?"

Wally shook his head with an eye roll. "In short, the whole _Flash_ _thing…_ also my ex-girlfriend didn't help."

"Frances?"

He nodded. "Yeah, she's uh… still a little _too_ attached."

"Anything I can help with?" Dick asked approaching the stairs.

"Only if you can have her committed, then throw away the goddamn key."

"That bad?"

"Oh yeah," Wally confirmed as they exited the building. "Not to lift this joke from Kevin Hart, but that guy has a point: I don't have _Ex's_ , I have _Why's_ , like _why the hell did I date her_?"

Dick let out a laugh and nodded. "You do have an interesting track record."

"Yeah, my life would make a great Lifetime Movie, shitty acting n'all."

"You could call it: Deadly Women: The Wally West Addition."

"That's a shitty title, don't quit your day job," Wally chuckled. "But I think I'd prefer memes like: _Frances Kane: The Original Crazy Ex-Girlfriend."_

"Yeah, she did whine a lot."

"And she drank a lot of it too."

"I hate to say it, but she makes Raven look like the sane one."

"Raven is the sane one," Wally smiled, "at least she admitted she was bad for me. Hell—she's the only girl that ever warned me NOT to date her."

"Well no one can say Raven isn't self-aware."

"Yeah that is one thing that girl had on all of us," Wally added as they stood in front of her building. "But yeah, I guess I should get back to work, those shit boxes aren't gonna fix themselves."

"Don't say that, Tesla might change that."

"Dude, fuck Tesla, I'm gonna drive my shitty old truck till it either dies or blows up," Wally professed in defense of his love for auto mechanics.

Dick gave him a slight laugh. "When you're _Comanche_ shits the bed we're giving it a Viking funeral," Dick added recalling when Wally bought the Truck after high school. "But I gotta go pack and let my landlord know we're not coming back."

"That sounds like fun," Wally added cynically.

Dick nodded with an overwhelmed expression. "I'll see'y, man."

"Yeah, and again, if you need to talk, or just do something to take your mind off things, y'know where to find me."

Dick nodded and waved as he went his separate way. Wally waited, watching as he turned away and glanced back up at a window from the sidewalk, a pair of familiar eyes peering down at him quizzically.

Wally looked on carefully, Dick's thoughts guiding him far enough away he couldn't possibly notice what was right in front of him.

"Shit," the speedster sighed and bound up the steps, back into the building.

He rushed up the stairway and made his way to the hallway he'd just left, the door flying open as she peeked around the corner.

"Is he gone?"

Wally nodded. "Yeah, he's not coming back," he added, stepping into the apartment as she closed the door. He noticed her nature was frantic, something that was rare of her unless something horrible was truly a foot. "Raven, you okay?"

She glanced at him as if she'd been caught in the act. "He hates me," she mumbled, looking down at her fingernails, "and I can't blame him."

Her eyes fluttered up to the ceiling at a loss; her self-loathing was something he was used to.

"Raven, I know this whole thing with you and Dick is very complicated, but that wasn't you, _you_ would never do _that_."

She shook her head and stepped toward an old couch left behind in the empty apartment. "No, but a part of me did and I can't change that, and I can't make that part of me go away..."

"We all have a part of us like that, Raven."

"Yeah, but has that part of you ever ruined someone you love's life?" she whined bitterly.

"Yeah," the speedster confirmed, "all the time."

"That's not the same thing," she sighed.

"Metaphorically it is," he added and sat down beside her. "Listen, I know right now, coming to terms with what happened is hard for you and Dick, but Kory forgave you, and he will too. It's just gonna take some time, okay?" he said taking her hand.

Her already frigid posture stiffened, it always did when he touched her.

Still, she nodded, biting back some tears. The thought of staring down the barrel of her two best friends a heart wrenching concept. Kory may have forgiven her, but Dick hadn't, and in truth, Raven didn't think she deserved either of their forgiveness.

"You ready to go?"

She nodded and wiped her eyes. "Yeah, I just gotta return my keys."

"Okay, you need a ride to the airport?"

Raven shook her head. "I called a cab," she added as she stood up and followed Wally to the door as he held it open.

"So what did Kory tell you?" he asked as she exited.

She glanced at him a moment and her eyes fell to the floor. "Other than she was leaving and not to tell Dick, something really personal I don't think I have the right to share."

"That's fair," Wally agreed, shutting the door, an odd looking rose hanging from the door knocker. "Oh, someone must have left this for you, I didn't know you were seeing anyone?" he said quizzically, removing the rose, so red, it was nearly black.

"I'm not," Raven stated uncomfortably, not even taking the token as she turned and made her way toward the stairs.

"Okay," Wally said looking down at the flower with a peculiar eye. "You wanna tell me about it?"

"No," she replied looking back at him, "just leave it."

"Alright, whatever you say, Rae," he agreed with a grimace and dropped the rose in the hall. "And to think I used to kick myself for never buying you flowers."

88888

Dick stepped into the hallway of his apartment building, his eyes falling toward the elevator, which held a few memories he'd rather not speak of. He approached the aluminum doors, his reflection vague and distorted as his hesitant hand rose to the button. He pressed it and waited as the numbers lit, signaling the elevator's descent, until it finally reached the lower floor and opened. He immediately blushed as a couple who'd been kissing, and probably guilty of more stumbled out, very much in love. Dick pretended not to notice, but it was pretty clear he had.

"Hey man," the young man nodded, Dick nodding in return as he mustered a fake smile, regretting he hadn't just taken the stairs.

He hurried himself into the elevator and the door closed, offering him some momentary relief as the company of others was something he wanted little of. He pressed the button to his floor, the glowing number a simple reminder that he wouldn't be sleeping tonight. He sighed heavily and fell back on the wall, this ride always took a rather long time as their floor was at the very top. He looked around the chamber, his thoughts drifting, thinking about the time he'd shared it with her. In a sense he was used to standing there alone, waiting blankly for the ride to be over, she hadn't been home in months. Only now he knew she never would be.

Part of him wondered how hard it would be as the elevator door rolled opened. He took a deep breath and stepped out, his eyes staring down their door as if threatened by it. Knowing it would be painful walking into that empty apartment by himself. Even if that was the very thing he'd been doing since she _checked herself in_ , so how could this be any different?

He turned the key and opened the door, the living room was dark as the dusk bled through the window. He begrudgingly flipped on the light, the furniture cold as it sat unused and completely untouched. He placed down his keys and shook his head, not even sure where to start. He opened the fridge; there was nothing to eat.

"Guess I'll start here."

He opened a trash bag and began throwing everything out, then moved to the freezer and proceeded to do the same, but left a box of ice cream sandwiches.

"I'm definitely eating those."

Dick open one and took a bite finding some comfort in the sweet chill, though food was never really a vice for him and neither was alcohol. That being said, he opened a cabinet and found an old bottle of white whisky Roy had given him the day of his wedding. He'd never opened it and was saving it for a special occasion, like he and Kory's first anniversary… so much for that.

"Aww fuck it," he sighed breaking the seal and took a swig straight from the bottle.

He continued cleaning out the cabinets, yelling at _Alexa_ to play his favorite Album by _Nothing._ The still quiet in the apartment was suddenly stirred by the crashing sound of percussion and distorted guitars as " _Fever Queen"_ played to the sound of his broken, but still beating heart. He took another swig of _Bully Boy,_ recalling the last time he'd been that unhinged: After he discovered Jason had died. Not only had he found out after the fact, but he also had the misfortune of missing his funeral services and Dick couldn't help but feel personally responsible for the tragedy. That maybe if he'd just been more present for the boy, he would have been spared.

He took another long sip at the unsavory thought, hoping to dull the edge with the burn. Another pound of guilt to throw on the fire.

He tied the bag closed and threw it aside, moving on to the bathroom, packing what he'd be taking and tossed everything else, noticing the things that belonged to Kory were already gone. He shook his head, his heart sinking as he realized she'd been here and wondered what else she'd taken.

With the bathroom done, he moved on to the bedroom, their bed left untouched. He looked back at it with contempt as he opened his closet and began taking the clothes he wanted and set aside the ones he didn't for donation. This took less time as Dick decided to travel light, throwing most of his belongings toward charity.

He moved on to Kory's closet, not sure what to expect and found most of her clothing missing, nearly everything, except her wedding dress. He paused at the sight of the garment, wondering why they'd kept it. After their wedding, he'd banished it to the back of the closet, just out of sight and memory. It's torn silk too dismal to recall as his eyes fell on the blood staining its virgin white lace.

He closed the door not even bothering with it. The very thought of touching it leaving him with a filthy feeling. He set the bags of clothes aside and started looking through their bedside drawers. He started with Kory's, opening it to find it empty, all accept for one matchbook with his cell phone number on it. He recalled the night he'd written it down for her, long before they dated. They'd all gone out to a bar; Kory and Raven had yet to experience that part of earth, or specifically: American culture. Wally and Donna convinced Dick that it would be fun to take the girls out and show them the less serious side of their world. Raven (of course) hated the experience, Wally having to walk her home, something they never really talked about, but neither of them seemed to mind. Kory, on the other hand, took to the experience with more fluidity and openness, leading the hero and alien to bond. Kory expressed that though she found the current cultural experience fascinating and adventurous, she still struggled to understand it. That was when Dick scratched his number down on that matchbook:

" _Well, if you ever wanna talk about it, or anything else… you can… call me?" He said handing her the matchbook._

 _She smiled and took it, looking down at the numbers fondly. "I certainly will, Dick. Thank you."_

He never really thought about the simple matchbook again, until one night years later when she'd confessed she'd kept it, until now. He lifted the memento and stared at it numbly, then slipped it in his pocket as he moved to the other side of the bed. He opened his drawer, everything practically the way he'd left it. A photo of his parents waiting patiently for him as he placed it aside to be packed. An old book rested beneath it, a faded copy of _The_ _Taming of the Shrew_ that once belonged to his mother. Dick lifted the old tomb and flipped through its fragile pages. The book was aged, once belonging to his grandmother prior to her death. He could recall his mother reading through it often as she'd read that story far too many times to count. When reading the work in his adulthood, he could understand why, Katherina (or Kate) was a peculiar woman and reminded him very much of his mother. She was bold and outspoken, very passionate and funny. Kory was sort of like that, but he found her to be more consistent with Bianca, Kate's younger sister. Kory was fiery, no one could say that she was dispassionate about anything. However it was her sense of naiveté that lent her toward Bianca's favor. He placed the book with the photo and removed a few more things of importance: An old family album, his father's gold watch, a letter Jason wrote him and a pocket watch that belonged to Bruce's father he'd had engraved for Dick upon his 18th birthday. He placed the things in a bag, carefully, adding his mother's engagement ring to the mix, but realized something was missing.

"Wait…"

He reopened the drawer, left empty, and looked down into its void expression.

"Did she take it?"

He lifted his phone and called Donna, the phone rang a few times when she finally answered, her voice duller than usual.

"Hey," she sighed, "I take it you found out?"

Dick grinned bitterly and replied, "Yeah, thanks for the heads up."

"Hey, I have my own shit to deal with and Kory bailed rather quickly so… I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault," Dick grimaced, but he couldn't quite fight the sense of betrayal.

"So you wanna talk about it?" Donna asked, "I mean if anyone kinda knows what you're going through, it's this girl," she added taking a sip of red wine, dulling the knife in her own heart.

His eyes fell to his lap, nearly forgetting that Donna had her own broken heart to contend with. "Donna, I'm sorry," he sighed. "I've been so consumed with myself and Kory that… I just haven't been a good friend."

Donna stared into her glass longingly, for the days when life was just simpler. "I get it, you could say the same about me."

The two paused, the sound of " _Heavenly Blue Flu,"_ filling the silent void, a song that currently reminded him of Kory. "I guess we've both been shitty friends?"

"Yeah," she agreed, "but it looks like our shitty friendship is all we have right now..."

Dick nodded. "Guess so…"

He could hear her laugh. "So did this call have a purpose?"

Dick took a deep breath. "Um, yeah… I used to keep a copy of mine and Kory's wedding photo in my drawer, you wouldn't happen to know if she took it or not?"

He heard Donna sigh, as she'd taken the photo of the very much in love couple at the altar. "I don't know…"

Dick grimace with defeat, confirmation not a kindness he'd be afforded.

"But Raven might," she added, knowing Kory had visited the empath last.

Dick rolled his eyes, pretty much accepting the dead-end.

"Dick," Donna insisted, "I know you're still finding it in your heart to forgive her, but maybe it's time? Kory wants you to forg—"

"I know, Donna, she wants me to forgive Raven, I get it. But it's not that simple."

"Well you should still call her," Donna persisted, "is that simple enough?"

He took pause, his mother's suborn nature taking hold of his father's less stringent demeanor.

"If you wanna know what happened to that picture, you'll call her." And with that she hung up the phone, leaving Dick to the silence as the song stopped.

He tucked his phone back in his pocket and zipped the bag. He finished packing and booked an early morning flight; he'd have to leave in a few hours.

With tired eyes, he looked to the bedroom, but could not bear the thought of sleeping in that cold bed without her. Most nights he just slept on the couch, the TV still on as he'd wake through the hours of the night, by himself. He took a seat in the living room and took out his phone, a text from Donna:

 _Call her,_ Raven's contact information waiting in an attachment.

He grimaced, his jaw tight as he hit the screen and begrudgingly selected the option to call. The phone rang, the dial tone like a cruel laugh as it continued unnoticed:

"You've uh... reached _Rachel_ … leave a message… if you want."

"Yeah, uh… Hey Rae, it's Dick…" he stumbled, "I um, know this is gonna sound weird, but uh… I'm packing and I can't find my wedding photo," he paused as the words sounded bitter and cold rolling off his tongue. "I'm not trying to upset you, but uh, Donna mentioned that you might know if Kory took it or not." He took a deep breath, trying to bring his words to a close. "Well, let me know, I guess. Good luck in Keystone… bye Rae."

He hung up and took one last swig of whisky and poured the rest down the drain. He could feel the alcohol warming his blood, leaving him slightly unsteady on his feet. He slumped to the couch, a mournful piano beginning to play, the last track of the album titled, " _Tired of Tomorrow"._

The words unfurled into the ether, their story filling it with a sadness that had yet to be sung, in a manner that had yet to be expressed. As though he could feel their horrible pain for the first time. As if the words themselves were reaching into his heart and tearing it out. For in that song, tomorrow was something with no progression, no hope or future. It was empty and void of the life one wanted. The only slight hope this new hell had to offer was something only expressed by its willful denial, the wanting for it to get better, but would it ever?

He fell to his back, staring into the vacant white ceiling, into the _nothing_. His mind drifting off into it, a saddened, yet somehow blank expression bestowed in his eyes. Not even caring that he thought too deeply. Until his mind dissolved, and the time slipped away—into _nothing._

And for a long moment there was simply— _nothing:_ No pain, no sound, no presence or existence. Until a ghostly shadow shook him from the sleep he'd stole, a displaced voice violently dragging him back to the world.

He awoke furiously, like a dead man gasping for one more desperate breath. He looked to his phone, a plain number bright on the screen.

"Oh shit," he grimaced strongly, knowing exactly whose voice he'd hear.

He paused a moment, holding the device as it glowed and sang for his reply. He could feel his face growing red, his temper wanting to ignite; the alcohol didn't help. Still, he stared at it, wondering what she was thinking on the other side: Did she feel shame toward him, or was it possibly pity? Could he even handle her pity?

He took a deep breath, trying to gain his composure as he slid his thumb across the bright screen, and with a shaking voice, answered:

"Hello?"

"Oh, um Richard…" he heard her say off put. "I um, didn't think you'd answer," she stammered, clearly embarrassed.

"Well I did," he replied with a chill. "Um is there a reason you called?" Dick added somewhat forgetting the photo.

"You called about a picture, remember?" she said with a slight annoyance.

"Oh yeah, sorry… I forgot about that..."

She remained paused at the other end. Dick frowned, not really sure whether to speak or not.

"So do you know if she took it?" he could hear her breath huff, something she only did when she was hiding something.

"She had it when I saw her, yes" she finally said, recalling their conversation as Kory looked down at the photo with dull and somber eyes, her splintered hands holding it as her body remained slumped over it.

"Okay, thanks…" Dick waited a moment, he knew there was something else. "So… um, you're moving to Keystone?"

"Yeah…?"

"Why?"

Her breath hitched, his comment suspect as she presumed the reason he'd asked such a question and replied, "You suddenly _care_?"

Dick grimaced, _what the fuck am I doing?_ he thought sharply. "That came out wrong…"

"No, it didn't," she replied, not sparing him the lashing.

"Okay, I'm sorry."

He could practically feel her stare through the phone. "No you're not."

He remained silent, feeling a little ashamed, he may not have considered her a friend now, but he still felt he owed her some respect.

"Listen Dick," she began, "I get it, I really do. I hate myself for what happened just as much as you do. And, I know that there is nothing I can say or do that can ever change that—"

"Raven?"

"I ruined your life, I'm sorry—"

"... _Raven_?"

"And I know you think my going out to Keystone will ruin Wally's life too—"

"Umm… _Raven?"_

"But you have NO idea the shit I've had to deal with and what the hell is goi—"

"RAVEN!"

"WHAT?"

The two synonymously shut up, each one rather shocked that the other had yelled.

Dick waded a moment, part of him wanting to scream _I'm sorry_ , only, another part of him just wouldn't allow it.

"I—um… I get it, Rae," he murmured, "I do."

He could hear her sigh an uneven breath; she knew how he felt and she knew an apology would not be gifted her way.

"I get that, in a way, this hurts you as much as it hurts me, but I can't forgive you—" he bit his tongue with regret, though she'd never accept his false apology, "not yet."

She was quiet, the two sharing the rue as each remained alone in the night.

"I'm sorry I can't forgive you yet, Rae…"

"It's okay," she said with a light sob. "At least you called me…"

Dick smiled. "Yeah, it's a start."

"Maybe…" Their voices fell silent again, but Raven continued. "I um—I just got off my flight, so… I'm gonna go."

"Yeah, sure, I have to get ready to catch mine so… yeah."

"Yeah…"

"Bye Raven."

"Bye," she mustered, as Dick got ready to hang up the phone, "and Richard…"

"Yeah?"

"I'll understand if you never forgive me."

He didn't say anything and neither did she. The hero muttering a vague, " _okay"_ and hung up the phone.

He placed down the device and looked at the time, he had to be at the airport in an hour. He took a shower and gathered his things he'd be taking, pretty much leaving the rest. He opened the door and looked back at the now lifeless apartment, its stillness unmoving and somehow unnerving. The silence deafening.

This home that was once filled with laughter, love and happiness, was now barren and unfulfilled. A mere corpse of the life it sheltered and nestled within its walls. That life was nothing but a memory now, a part of his life that was over and gone. There was nothing left to do but close the door and lock it up tight, and hope for something more _tomorrow_.


End file.
